The Path to Greatness Or Not
by Aiden Clearwater
Summary: A young man named Shan appears, who is he and where is Ash? ((Summary and Title subject to change. Any suggestions are welcome.))
1. Chapter 1

"Excuse me, miss."

Misty barely glanced up from the bag she had re-rearranging for the twelfth time.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't battle at the moment. If you could wait, one of my sisters'll be here in a moment," she said in vague, polite voice, other things on her mind. Of course, she could battle, but Misty didn't want to.

"I don't want to battle."

She looked up through her longish bangs.

"Do you need any help, then?" she asked as she hefted up her bag and swung it over her shoulder in a wide arch. Luckily, this time the contents didn't spill out over the hall.

"Some directions or something?"

He shook his head slightly, pale-blond bangs hanging low on his head.

"No. I know where I am. I was just wondering if I could have the use of your pool for a moment. My water Pokémon need some time out of their Pokéballs, just to lounge. It's been a while for them." He looked ready to take either answer she could give, uncaring both ways.

Misty nodded slightly, looking at the face. It seemed familiar to her, like she had seen it recently.

"Well, I don't see why not, as long as no one needs to battle. Follow me."

"Thank you." The man waited until she started moving before he even budged, and Misty tried to keep up a conversation.

"Are you a water Pokémon expert?" she asked politely, trying to look at him from over her shoulder.

"No." It was said very simply, not conceded nor insulted in any way.

"Just traveling through Cerulean?"

"Yes."

Not much for conversation, Misty thought as they stepped into the stadium ring.

"Here we are. Do you need anything else?"

He had already slung off his pack and was opening it.

"No. I'm fine. Thank you." Within a few moments he had withdrawn almost twenty Pokéballs.

"How come you carry around so many?" Misty asked. His lifted his head to look at her with piercing blue eyes.

"Why shouldn't I?"

Misty blinked at the tone.

"Most trainers only carry around six, that's all I'm saying."

He nodded in apparent understanding, removing his intense gaze from her and turning it on the water. With a quiet and graceful ease, he released each Pokémon, one-by-one, filling the pool. Misty looked on, eyes wide, as one reared up.

"A Gyarados," she murmured in awe. The Pokémon's violet eyes looked down critically at her, then dived beneath the surface.

Misty thought she'd never live to see such beautiful Pokémon as in one place, swimming gracefully. She didn't even know what they all were, except that they were water Pokémon. They were all so sleek and healthy-looking, twirling under the water. Under such beautiful sights, Misty felt herself walking towards the edge to the pool to kneel closer to them, eyes shining.

She could have looked at them all day, but they paid her no mind. Once, just once, Misty pulled her eyes away from the Pokémon to look at their trainer, her smile flashing, but when she saw him, her smile dimmed. His shoulder-length blond hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and he wore black jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt that did little to hide his lean, but muscular torso. Even while watching such spectacular displays, his profile looked vague and detached, although Misty thought she saw his eyes lighten. After that, even the Pokémon couldn't draw her gaze back. There was something about this trainer, his aura, which interested her in an unknown way.

He must have sensed her eyes on him, for he suddenly looked up, and they locked eyes. Under any other circumstances, Misty would have felt terribly embarrassed, but, then again, the eyes she would be looking at would have some kind of emotion behind them. These eyes had nothing that her own eyes could read. It was like the trainer was used to being the oddity.

In the end, Misty did look away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the trainer turn back to look at his Pokémon, and then he recalled them back to their Pokéballs a few moments later.

"Thank you, miss," he said graciously. "I hope you have a good-day."

"Umm, you too, Sir."

He nodded as he shifted the pack on his shoulders, and then turned without another word.

Misty shook her head slightly as she shifted her own backpack, preparing for her own journey. Her sisters weren't here yet, and Misty knew she couldn't leave until they arrived to take care of the gym. Daisy had promised that they'd be back by five, and they had at least thirty minutes left. Part of Misty was thinking that it was very mean of them to actually be gone the full time. They knew she wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Misty strolled quickly to the garage and dragged out her bike, a very nice metallic blue in color. It wasn't cheap either. The bike had arrived at her last birthday from a friend of hers; the very one she had hopes on visiting. Rolling back and forth on it, Misty dimly recalled that this would actually be the first time she had seen him in a bit over five years. She could almost recall the exact second . . .

A voice broke through her reverie.

"Hey, Misty!"

Her headshot up and her foot slammed down, sending the bike speeding off. "Bye, Daisy! Violet! Lily! See you in a few days!"

"Say hi to Ash for us!" Violet called.

"I will!" She pedaled faster for the mere speed of it, the wind wiping back her bangs and trying to untwine her braid. She kept up the good pace until she was well out of Cerulean City. Her feet moved against the pedals on automatic, her mind wandering. Misty didn't want to think, and biking always managed to clear her head.

So out of it, it took Misty a full five minutes to comprehend what was almost a mile in front of her. She could she the flickering flames of the fire Pokémon, and there was a rider on it. With a spark of interest, Misty renewed her energy and pedaled faster to catch up with the pair.

"Hey!" she called when the rider was only a few yards ahead. The Rapidash was slowed down, and the rider turned in his seat.

Misty brought herself level, laughing at fate.

"You, again," she said to the blond man she had met earlier.

He nodded to her finding, no humor or interest in their meeting again.

"Hello."

Coasting, Misty looked at him. He didn't care, looking ahead and keeping the Rapidash at a steady trot.

"Nice Rapidash."

"Thank you." The fiery mane wiped the side of his face, and Misty noticed that his eyes were scanning the horizon for something.

"What are you looking for?"

"A Pokémon," he said levelly, uninterested in conversation. "And there she is. Right on time. YAH!" The Rapidash need no encouragement other than that, sprinting forward, leaving Misty in a cloud of dust. By the time the cloud had dispensed enough for her to see clearly, the blond rider was already halting the Rapidash under a tree a distance down the way.

Misty pedaled quickly to catch up. Now that she had a traveling companion, Misty wasn't going to let him go so easily, especially one that seemed to be an engaging enigma. Her eyes looked at the Pokémon in his arms.

"A Pikachu?"

"Yes. Mine. Did you do it?" he asked the tiny Pokémon.

"Pi!" Pikachu said happily, looking at Misty curiously with its brown eyes. "Pika chu pi?"

The blue eyes shifted towards Misty.

"Pikachu, this is—" Suddenly he stopped, blue eyes resting on her.

"Misty," she supplied.

The Pikachu leaped from her trainer's arms and onto the head of the Rapidash, looking happily at Misty.

"Piiiii! Pikapi chu, pikachu pi!" It bared her a large smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Pikachu," she smiled at the friendly creature. Her eyes drifted over to her trainer's, and she was slightly surprised to see him almost smiling.

"And who are you, sir?"

He looked at her. "I'm Shan." He bowed his head slightly. "Come on, Pikachu. Let's get going." He nudged Rapidash gently to get it to walk on.

"Where are you going?"

Shan shrugged. "We're just following the road."

"I'm going to Pallet Town," she informed him, even though he didn't ask. "Seeing an old friend."

He nodded slightly, seemingly thinking about something.

"Yes, you'd get there on this road." Again he paused. "Professor Oak lives there, correct?"

"Yes. I know him."

Again Shan nodded. "Maybe we will go there. I need my Pokédex updated." He paused. "So, you're visiting Professor Oak?" Misty chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. So he does do conversation. "No, not actually him. A friend is supposed to be coming back. He's been gone a long time."

"What's his name?"

"Ash, Ash Ketchum."

"Can't say that I know him." Shan looked at the horizon. "Where'd he go?"

Misty shrugged, looking at her handlebar. "No one knows. He ran away."

"One of them, then."

Misty's eyes flashed. "What does that mean?" she demanded hotly. Shan gave her no response. "He's coming back. He said so."

"He told you?" Shan asked quietly.

"No. He promised his mom."

Shan turned his head slightly looked at her. "Strange." He blew a wisp of hair out of his eyes.

Misty found herself nodding without thinking about it. "Ash always wanted to be a Pokémon Master," she said.

"Poor reason to run away," Shan said stiffly.

"I used to follow him around on his journeys and stuff. He was like a little brother. An annoying little brother."

Pikachu looked down at her from Shan's shoulder. "Pika?"

Misty smiled up at it. "He had a Pikachu, too, but it ran away."

"Bad trainer, I suppose."

"No," Misty said sharply. She was surprised to see that the Pikachu was also glaring down at its trainer, as if scolding him for saying such a thing, true or not. "Ash was a good trainer, if a little dense and stubborn," Misty said quietly. "Pikachu ran away soon after we came back to Pallet. Ash was almost twelve, maybe a few months shy, I was fifteen, and Brock, a friend of ours, well, he was seventeen . . ."

Ash stood triumphantly at the crest of the hill, looking at Pallet, his hometown, with a mixture of pride and love. "HEY PALLET! I'M BACK!" he yelled happily, hands around his mouth in a makeshift megaphone.

"PIKA PIKACHU!"

"AND PIKACHU TOO!"

"Ash, shut up!" Misty ordered, smacking him on the back of his head. "Like anyone's happy you're back."

Ash made a face as he rubbed the back of his head. "You didn't have to hit me," he complained.

"If you wouldn't act so stupid—" she started, raising a fist.

"Guys, guys!" Brock yelled, jumping between them. "Come on, don't fight. I'm out of aspirin." They ignored him, as usual.

"I bet my mom's happy to see me, and Professor Oak," Ash stated.

"Ohh, wow!" she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Come on. Let's get going."

The argument quickly left Ash's mind as he ran past Misty down the hill and onto the path. "Come on, Pikachu!"

The Ketchum house was right on the edge of the town, and they could already see it. Ash ran in, calling,

"Mom! Mom!" as he ran through the house stupidly.

"I don't think anyone's home," Misty told him smugly as he slumped down the stairs, a tad downhearted at his lack of a welcome-home.

Ash nodded his agreement. "Maybe she went shopping or something with Mr. Mime."

Brock joined them after checking the ground floor, shaking his head. "Not with Mr. Mime. He's sweeping the kitchen floor. And he doesn't look too happy."

With a curious look, Ash and Misty stuck their heads in the kitchen. There, Mr. Mime was savagely swishing the dirt around the floor, the look of murder on its normally happy face.

"Ahh, I think I'll talk to Mr. Mime later," Ash sighed. "I know! Let's go visit Professor Oak. Maybe Mom went to visit him to look at my Pokémon."

"Your mom does have other things to do, Ash," Misty said in bored voice.

Brock held his head in his hand, waiting for a fresh fight, as was Pikachu. Ash, for his part, simply stuck out his tongue immaturely.

"Let's go, guys!" he urged, leaving the building almost as quickly as he had entered.

"Do you think we could put him on a leash?" Misty asked Brock in a tired voice.

"It'd have to be a chain."

"Pi," Pikachu agreed wearily, then started to follow its trainer.

Ash was impatiently waiting at Professor Oak's gates by the time they caught up, but he made no remark about their slowness. Instead he ran up the steps and knocked happily on the door.

"Hi, Professor!" he smiled broadly the second the door opened.

Professor Oak looked at him startled, but smiled cheerfully. "Hello Ash, Misty, Brock. And how's Pikachu? Come in come in. I suppose you'll be wanting your Pokémon, Ash."

"Huh, Professor? What are you taking about?" Ash asked confused as they followed the older man to the lab. Professor Oak literally stopped in his tracks.

"You don't know, Ash?" he asked in a concerned voice, turning to face them.

"Know what?" Ash responded.

"We just got back," Misty explained.

"Is something going, Professor?" Brock asked.

Oak looked down at them, a grim expression on his face. "Ash, I think you should go home and talk to your mother."

Ash was genuinely curious. "Why, Professor? What's happening?"

He looked like he was seriously debating whether or not he would explain everything. "Your mother'll explain it all to you," he said, ushering the dark-haired boy and his friends back towards the door, his voice no happier.

"Why can't you tell me?"

"It's not my place, Ash. I'll see you later."

"Okay, Professor," Ash agreed, still uncertain. The door was shut.

"What was that all about, Ash?" Misty asked, concerned. Something had to be seriously wrong if Professor Oak wouldn't tell them.

"I . . . I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm going to find out. Right, Pikachu?"

"Pi, Pikapi!" Pikachu agreed, leaping onto Ash's shoulder.

Misty noticed that Ash was less quick in returning back to his home, his mind clearing occupied with this current puzzle.

"What do you thinks going on?" she asked Brock while they walked in front of Ash. He shrugged.

"We'll know in a minute though."

Ash pushed open the door they had been at less than an hour ago, and timidly—Misty couldn't believe it—called out, "Mom? Mom!"

Misty saw Mrs. Ketchum sitting on the couch, her eyes red. The second her eyes fell on Ash, she leaped up and wrapped him into the tightest hug, crying fully. "Oh, Ash, you're back!"

"Mom! Mom, my friends!"

Mrs. Ketchum, of course, didn't care, and part of Misty realized that Ash didn't mind as much as he usually did.

"My little man, I'm so sorry!" she sobbed.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Ash demanded, worried.

She pulled away, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. "Nothing's wrong dear," she said both quickly and quietly.

"Then why—"

"Ash, you're going . . ." she choked, tears brimming with tears again.

"What?" he demanded. Misty would have loved to join in, but she couldn't get involved it this family matter.

"Hello, Ash," said a deep voice.

Misty, Brock, Pikachu, and Ash all turned to see a tall, imposing man, over six-feet tall and broad shouldered standing in the door frame to the kitchen. He had neat black and brilliant blue eyes, a long face and pointed nose. He was wearing a casual business suit and watching all of them critically. Well, Misty reasoned he was actually watching Ash and Mrs. Ketchum. He didn't even appear to notice her and Brock.

"D-d-d-dad," Ash stuttered, backing up against his mother, terribly surprised.

Misty could see it, the resemblance, if her mind stepped back. The pert nose and dark hair was there, but Ash had his mother's eyes and facial features. Ash would never be that broad-shouldered either, unless he worked out a lot.

"Get packed, Ash," his father ordered.

"Li," Mrs. Ketchum pleaded. "He doesn't even know what's going on."

"What is going on?" Ash demanded, his eyes wide with fear. "Mom?"

Mr. Ketchum, Li, looked at Ash. "I thought I made myself clear with my last statement. You're moving in with me."

"B-but why?" Ash questioned.

Mr. Ketchum narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't question your parents."

"But why do I have to move in with you?" Ash implored.

The father's eyes, narrower than Ash's or Mrs. Ketchum's, studied his son, who hadn't budged from his mother's side. "Because I want you to."

"Why?"

Misty could see that Ash had asked the wrong question. Mr. Ketchum's eyes flashed and his face reddened.

"I can't see my own son?"

"You never did before!"

"Ash," Mrs. Ketchum said softly, touching his arm. "Listen to your father."

"Mom," he pleaded.

"Go get packed, Ash," she said quietly, looking at Mr. Ketchum.

"What about my Pokémon training?" he demanded to his mother.

"There won't be any more of that," Mr. Ketchum stated, even though the question wasn't directed towards him. Mrs. Ketchum couldn't look at her son.

"What?" Ash, Brock, and Misty both said at same time.

"Pi?"

"I can't stop training!" Ash yelled. "I'm gonna be a Pokémon Master!"

"No, you're not," Mr. Ketchum said levelly. "I'm not putting up with any of that."

Ash set his jaw. "Then I'm not going!"

"You, fortunately, have no power to back up that statement," Mr. Ketchum said calmly, but Misty could tell his patience was beginning to tried. "You are a spoiled brat how needs to learn about the real world. That is, of course, what I get for leaving you in your mother's care."

"Take that back!" Ash ordered, face almost as red as Mrs. Ketchum's.

"Chu!" Pikachu agreed, cheeks flashing.

"See what I mean. Impetuous, spoiled, used to getting your way." Mr. Ketchum looked at Ash critically. "Get your stuff."

"I told you I'm not going," Ash stated coldly. "And you can't make me." Misty could see him reaching behind his back for another Pokéball.

"ASH SATOSHI KETCHUM, don't you dare!" Mrs. Ketchum's voice rang clear and loud. Ash turned around wildly to look at him mother. "Get up stairs, and get your stuff." Misty was surprised at the amount of control Mrs. Ketchum had managed, her voice not once cracking.

"Mom!"

"Go!"

"But, Mom!"

"GO!"

Ash looked at his mom in disbelief, but ran up the stairs at her glare, Pikachu at his heels. Misty heard a door slammed shut.

Mr. Ketchum nodded at Mrs. Ketchum. "Thank you, Hanako."

Mrs. Ketchum didn't respond, turning around to bite her knuckle.

Shan slid off the Rapidash, letting it wander off to feed in the low light.

"So he had to go live his father." Shan didn't appear to be much on asking questions if he didn't have to, or talking for that matter. This was the first time he had spoken since Misty had started. Misty would have guessed he wasn't even listening to her rambled on, but something told her each time she had looked over at him that he was listening raptly.

Misty nodded as she shrugged off her pack to get her sleeping bag. "His parents were separated years earlier when he was like three, I think. His dad's a really successful businessman."

"But not a father."

"No, not a father," Misty agreed. "Mr. Ketchum sent money to Mrs. Ketchum to live on. Since Mrs. Ketchum didn't have a job, Mr. Ketchum had the right to take Ash under his sole custody."

"Feel sorry for his mom," Shan said as he lit a fire. Pikachu sat in front of it, sitting on its sleeping bag, still awake and ready to listen to more of the story.

"His mom really did take it hard," Misty agreed, hugging her knees under her chin.

"So what happened? He run away now?"

Misty shook her head, toying with her braid. "No, he didn't run away until almost a year later. Mr. Ketchum decided to leave the next morning, so Ash had all night to plead . . ."

He banged his hand against the table. "NO!"

"But why?" Ash demanded, not backing down. "Why can't I at least continue training?"

"You want to make your way into the world as a trainer?" Mr. Ketchum snapped. "How are you going to be able to support yourself on that? Support a family, should you ever get one?" Misty cringed into a tighter ball on the couch, listening from the living room, at the underlying meaning that she gathered from the words. She gripped the book she had been trying to read.

"It's what I want to do! And Pokémon Masters live well-enough!"

She figured Ash was probably guessing on that area, but it was true. The better you were, the more you made. Her sisters lived well enough as gym leaders. The tips of her fingers played against the tips of the pages.

"Only the best do! There's no life it that! It's a fool's fancy!"

"Then let me make that choice!"

"And ruin your life!"

"It's what I want to do! Damn it, why don't you understand that?"

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me, young man!"

"Then let me train and battle!"

"You won't! I don't want anything remotely related to Pokémon in my house!" Mr. Ketchum's voice turned low and dark. "You are going to return your—what is it called?—Pokédex to that crackpot—"

"Professor Oak isn't a crackpot! He's a world famous Pokémon researcher!" Ash screeched, angry at the reference to what Misty thought he must have seen as a substitute father figure in his life.

"You're going to return it. And all of your Pokémon, as well. None of them are stepping into my house."

"I'm not abandoning my Pokémon!" Ash swore. "Not like you left me!"

Misty shot her head up, almost dropping her book, and she could hear Mr. Ketchum hiss as he drew in a breath. He said something in a low voice, so low even Misty couldn't hear it. She jumped when there was a sudden strike of hand against flesh, and Ash yelping more from surprise than pain.

"Understand?" The voice was so cold Misty shivered.

Ash suddenly ran out of the kitchen and out the door, and Misty could see that he was crying. "Ash!" she called, setting the book aside. He didn't even stop to look at her.

She was just about to follow Ash when Mr. Ketchum's voice reached her ears. "Don't. Leave him be."

Misty narrowed her eyes, and then ran out the door, more to get away from Mr. Ketchum than to go after Ash. Mrs. Ketchum was standing, clutching her trowel tightly, looking in the direction Misty figured Ash had ran off in. His mother's eyes were red, and Misty noticed that the flowers that were going to be planted weren't even out of their pots. Mrs. Ketchum looked imploringly at Misty, and Misty made up her mind. It was just before dusk, with enough light out to see the shadows that could soon be free. "Ash!"

Nothing answered her, but Misty kept on searching until it was late, sun set and completely dark. It was then that she found Ash, curled up in the fetal position and crying. She touched his shoulder gently, and he jumped to look at her with his face drenched with his own tears, hair messed up, and face touched with dirt. His League hat was also missing.

"She's gone," he whispered, bottom lip trembling. His brown eyes were so wide, like a lost puppy's.

"Who's gone?" Misty whispered back, kneeling next to him.

He sniffed. "Pikachu. She's gone." He was suddenly unable to breathe. "I—I told her she couldn't come along! And—and she r-r-ran away. I can't find her, Misty! I can't!" He buried his head in his arms. "I looked, and looked, but s-she's gone! And it's all my fault! My fault."

"She'll come back, Ash," Misty promised.

He shook his head wildly. "No she won't. She w-won't. And it's my fault. I hurt my best friend!" Sobs raked his body, and he started to hiccup.

"Shh, shh Ash," Misty reassured. "She just needs time to think. She'll be back. Don't worry, okay."

"I—I can't t-train anymore, M-misty," he whispered. "I c-c-can't." He dug his fingers in his hair.

Misty bit her lip, knowing how much that fact would hurt him, almost as much as Pikachu's departure.

"Come on, Ash. Let's get back to the house." She tried to pull him up, but he wouldn't budge. "Come on!" she urged, again trying to heft him up, but he remained stubborn.

He shook his head. "No, I'm st-staying here. Just g-go away." He turned away from her, curling up against the tree.

"Ash," she started, not unkindly. "You can't—"

"Misty," interrupted a gentle voice. Misty turned her head to Mrs. Ketchum standing there with a lamp in one hand and a blanket draped over her other arm. "Go to back to the house. We'll be okay." She knelt down by her son, who hadn't even acknowledged her presence. "Come on, honey," she murmured, wrapping the blanket around him.

Misty backed away and watched as Ash turned towards his mom, as she wrapped an arm around him, and as she petted his hair he cried freely. Mrs. Ketchum murmured small, wordless reassurances like a mother would do to console a child who had just witnessed a sighting of the bogeyman. The way the light and shadows danced over the display, it played with the proportions. Ash looked like a young boy, maybe three, so small and fragile, it made the statement seem all the more true.

It was a sight. Ash cried, Misty knew it; when his Pokémon did such things as show their loyalties to him, but the 11-year-old was more withdrawn when it came to his own feelings. On some level it was disturbing to see such a strong person broken to this extent. Mrs. Ketchum slowly started to rock him back and forth, heedless of his age, trickles of tears also from her own eyes. They were all each other had known, and they were being ripped apart. Misty turned her head away from the scene and walked away.

Later, after Misty found she couldn't sleep, she walked over to the window, and over by a tree she could see a light flickering, two figures next to it.

And Misty cried.

By the time breakfast came the next morning, Misty had managed to get some sleep. Ash and Mrs. Ketchum were already at the table, sitting side-by-side. Mr. Ketchum sat across from them. Misty saw that Mrs. Ketchum was holding Ash's hand tightly under the table and neither of them were looking up. Brock was cooking in the kitchen, and it was deadly quiet.

Mr. Ketchum set down his chopsticks. "Are you ready?"

"He still has to return his Pokédex and Pokéballs to Professor Oak," Mrs. Ketchum said quietly. Ash winced at the words like they were a whip.

"Is that all?" Mr. Ketchum asked, glaring at Mrs. Ketchum for speaking on behalf of her son. Ash nodded mutely, still not looking up.

"P-prof-fessor O-oak said he was going to c-c-ome over," Ash whispered. "I c-c-called."

Mr. Ketchum nodded with a passing breeze of respect. "Good. After that's done, we're leaving. I've already put your stuff in the car." Again Ash nodded mutely.

"Does anyone want seconds?" Brock asked.

"What time is this Oak fellow coming?" Mr. Ketchum asked, holding his plate up to Brock.

Ash shrugged, looking at his untouched food. Brock had purposely made his favorite—chocolate chip pancakes—and Ash hadn't even given them the usual drool.

"Where do you live, Mr. Ketchum?" Misty asked, unable to put up with Ash's sadness. "Maybe Brock and I could visit Ash." Ash raised his eyes to look at his friends, and both of them gave him a smile. The corners of his mouth quirked up momentarily.

"I doubt it," Mr. Ketchum said smoothly. "I live over in Ziganka, on pretty much the opposite side of the world."

"Oh." Misty's eyes went over to Ash, who looked even more pitiful. She wished she had never asked.

There was a knock at the door. Mr. Ketchum wiped his mouth. "That must be Oak. Get up, Ash and get it over with."

"'Es, sir," Ash muttered, standing up from the table, eyes still downcast as he walked towards the living room. He opened the door soundlessly. "Hi, Professor Oak. Oh, hi, Gary."

"Hello, Ash."

"Hey, Ash." It was definitely Gary's voice, but it seemed nicer.

Mr. Ketchum stood up and made his way to the kitchen, everyone following. Misty watched as he gave a wide smile and extended his hand. "Ah, you must be the famous Professor Oak I've heard about." It was so fake it made her sick.

"Why, hello," Professor Oak smiled, shaking the hand. "You must be Mr. Ketchum. I'm sorry to say I don't know much about you. This is my grandson Gary, a fellow Pokémon trainer like Ash." Oak smiled at the two boys, but his eyes lingered on Ash, worried about the change in character.

"That's the reason my son called you over here. He has something to give you." He set his hands on Ash's narrow shoulders.

Oak smiled at Ash. "What is it, Ash?" He was probably expecting a good-bye or something.

Misty watched as Ash froze. Mr. Ketchum nudged his son, and slowly Ash dug into his pocket. "Here, Professor," he whispered, barely audible. He held out his Pokédex and Pokéballs.

Both Professor Oak and Gary looked at Ash, shocked. "What are you doing, Ketchum?" Gary demanded.

"I'm giving back my Pokédex," Ash whispered, not meeting their gazes. "I won't need it. I'm not going to be Pokémon Master. Here, Professor."

Oak took them slowly, waiting for Ash to laugh and say, "Kidding." He was even more shocked when Ash didn't.

"Are you crazy, Ketchum!" Gary charged, stepping forward. "How can you just give up!" Ash didn't answer. Oak set his hand on Gary's shoulder, as he was infuriated by Ash's silence.

"Come on now, Ash," Mr. Ketchum said, pleased. "It's time to leave." He pushed his shocked son forward, towards the door.

"Grandpa, what's going on?" Gary demanded.

"I don't know," Oak said quietly. "I don't know."

Outside, Mrs. Ketchum was standing at the door, and she hugged her son so tightly Misty was surprised he could still breathe. Ash was crying again, quietly.

"If you see Pikachu, or if she comes back, you'll take care of her?" he whispered hopefully. Mrs. Ketchum nodded.

"Ash, if you ever want, you can have you're Pokémon back," Oak stated. Ash nodded dumbly, although he must have known it would never happen, just judging by the look his father gave him.

Gary smirked suddenly. "But, if you're not taking them back, I'd be happy to train them for you."

"Gary!" Oak snapped quietly. Now was not the time for that.

Misty and Brock both looked at Ash, waiting for his reaction. Gary was smirking when Ash finally took a step forward. Gary closed his eyes, like he was waiting for Ash to punch him. "You do that, Gary," Ash said hoarsely. Gary's eyes snapped open in surprise, as did everyone else's except Mrs. Ketchum's. "They've gotta get trained, and . . . and I know you'll be a great Pokémon Master. Good luck." Ash held out his hand.

Gary took it, still in shock. The smirk was gone, and disbelief was written on his face.

"Come on, Ash," Mr. Ketchum said impatiently from inside the car.

"Bye Misty, bye Brock," he whispered, but he stepped back when Misty made to hug him. "Good bye."

"Bye, Ash," Brock said, nodding.

She looked at him puzzled for not accepting her hug. "Bye."

Ash turned around slowly and started to walk towards the car. His eyes slowly started to scan the fields, and Misty knew he was looking for Pikachu. Ash probably figured he could maybe beg his father into it at the last minute with all the witnesses, or maybe hide the mouse until then. "Good bye, Pikachu," he whispered, then climbed in the open door.

They all watched the car go off. Ash didn't even look out of the window, but sat looking down at his feet.

Mrs. Ketchum stood there crying.

Misty looked up from the fire, which had transfixed her attention as she told the story. Shan was also looking off in the distance, holding Pikachu, who had started crying during the story.

"I saw him just once after that," she finished quietly.

Shan nodded, looking at her with his blue eyes, "Was it hard?"

"For everyone."

Again Shan nodded, petting Pikachu, who was looking up at her trainer with wide, wet, brown eyes. "It still isn't my place, but I don't think that's much of an excuse for running away."

"Pikapi?" Pikachu looked up at her trainer, then over at Misty, waiting for her response.

Misty yawned. "I told you he didn't run away until he was with his father for over a year, about a year and a half."

"My mistake," Shan said quietly. "You might want to get some sleep. It's late enough as it is."

She nodded, crawling into her sleeping bag without an argument. Her eyes watched as Shan carefully set Pikachu over to the tiny sleeping bag.

"Sleep well, old friend," he murmured, petting her head.

"Chu, Pikapi."

He smiled slightly, shadows dancing across his face. Shan made his way towards his own sleeping bag.

"Shan?"

"Hmm?" he replied, opening his own bag.

She propped her head against her hand. "Where are you from?"

"I don't have much of a home life," he said calmly. "I was originally from around here though, a long time ago. But my parents decided to transfer me to a better district."

She nodded, looking at his profile. "You know, you look familiar."

Shan stiffened. "You might have seen me on TV," he replied quietly. "The last three League games."

Suddenly she remembered. "You're the one who won for the past three years! And you turned down the offer to join the Elite!" Shan nodded slightly, as if unhappy that she had remembered him. "Are you a Master, then?" He seemed old enough to be, and his current standing with the League was a pretty good indication.

"Trainer. I'll always be a trainer, always something to learn." He laid down under the fabric, then looked up into the night sky. "I used to dream of being the greatest, but then I found out there's always someone better. You can only hope to be the best you can be. No, I'll never be a Master, as least not to myself, Miss Gym Leader." He spoke his words smoothly, believing every word of it.

"Why did you turn down joining the Elite? Everyone wants to join them."

"What's the point?" Shan asked quietly. "I don't have to be a gym leader or part of a group to be good. I know I'm good, but I'm not going to be comfy sitting on the top. People are always getting better, and the best way to keep my skills up is to keep traveling."

"Ash wouldn't say that," Misty sighed.

He didn't roll to face her, still looking up at the stars. "You think so?"

She nodded. "He'd say you can be better, I suppose, but he'd consider himself a Master if everyone else did. He was always so sure of his skills. It was kind of annoying after awhile. He always seemed to win by a stroke of Luck, if you ask me, and the wins went right to his head most of the time. If he had the chance to join the Elite, he'd have joined in three seconds flat."

"Sounds like a pretty confident kid. You got to be confident in this line of work." Misty blinked in surprise for a moment, for the first time hearing Shan stick up for Ash.

"This year I'm not going to the League," he continued. "At least I don't plan to. I think it'd be best to give the honor to someone else."

Misty turned her head at the trainer. "That's sweet of you." Shan shrugged. "Do you think Mr. Ketchum was right, about Pokémon training being a fool's folly?"

"Everything's foolish, even not attempting," Shan said quietly. "He was probably just protecting his son from a very harsh reality. This is not the easiest thing to do. That's why you start so young."

She snorted. "I never could figure out Mr. Ketchum. Why wouldn't he even let Ash have Pokémon, and sending him to that school?"

"Hmm." Shan closed his eyes.

"I can't wait to see him again though," Misty smiled. "You'd like Ash, provided he doesn't annoy you too much."

"Maybe I'll say hi," Shan said vaguely.

Misty smiled. "Good night, Shan."

"Good night, Misty."

She rolled in her bag, closing her eyes.

It seemed that no sooner had she closed them a noise made her open them. A sweet, enchanting tone tickled her ears, and she rolled over, pushing herself up.

Eyes closed, his side towards the rising sun, Shan sat playing a flute, his fingers dancing nimbly over the keys. Misty sat up, hugging her knees, and closed her eyes to let the music course her veins. Pikachu was at Shan's side on a rolled up sleeping bag, rocking to the music. In the meadow, Rapidash perked its ear to listen as well. All of the birds were quiet, and it seemed like the notes the flute made controlled the very light from the sunrise.

When the music suddenly stopped, Misty's eyes snapped open. She watched as Shan set the instrument back into a tiny case, then closed it carefully. It took her a while to find her voice.

"That was beautiful," she whispered.

He made no motion. "It helps me think," Shan finally replied, sounding slightly embarrassed at something, whether it be her comment or listening to him play. "It's the only thing I can really play on the thing, took me how many lessons to learn. And the Pokémon seem to like it. It has a very soothing effect on them."

"On everyone," she corrected. "Where'd you learn?"

"At school. It was the only instrument they had left." His blue eyes looked at her, and there was a flash of a smile. "Sorry to have woken you, but I prefer to play at dawn."

"It's all right," Misty smiled. "How long have you been up?"

"Almost an hour. Breakfast?" He tossed her a packet from his bag.

"Thank you." She opened it carefully, watching trainer. She must have been talking since eleven, and the sun rose at five, maybe, so he'd had about six hours of sleep.

"Pi chu pika?" Pikachu asked her. Misty looked at the yellow mouse unsure.

"She wants to know if you're going to continue your tale of woe," Shan translated quietly. "She likes a good story." His eyes also looked up at her briefly, as if wondering the same thing but too withdrawn or polite to ask as well.

Misty looked at the tiny Pokémon, its eyes eager as it sat next to its trainer. It seemed nice to get it all out in the open, the whole story, to remember the incidents that led up to Ash's departure. And Shan listened like a quiet well, drawing in all of her words and echoing them in his head.

She twirled the breakfast nugget through her fingers. "Me and Brock visited him a little bit over a month before he ran away, or when we think he did. I knew Ash wasn't that happy there, but he wasn't that sad either," she shrugged. "It took us a long time to save up—all off the past year—and even then Mrs. Ketchum chipped in. We invited her along, but she said she wouldn't be welcomed. Anyway, we came on a Saturday . . ."

"Wow," Misty whispered, looking at the massive and ornament building. "Are you sure this is the right address, Brock?"

He nodded, although he too was double-checking the numbers Mrs. Ketchum had given them. "This is it. Ready?"

Misty smiled deviously, hefting her bag. "He's gonna love this, I know it!"

They walked up the path, which was trimmed with some of the most flowers Misty had ever seen. The duo was still getting used to the large, but seemingly hidden city of Ziganka. Skyscrapers didn't destroy the horizon so much as enhance it, and there wasn't a trace of smog anywhere. The air was fresh, and, although a seemingly large city, there weren't a lot of people crowding the streets. The countryside was spacious and well groomed, for a lack of a better word.

"You knock," Misty said hesitantly when they reached the large door. Brock rolled his eyes, but obliged.

The door was opened promptly, a friendly, plump middle-aged woman in a black dress standing there.

"Yes. May I help you?" she inquired, looking at them skeptically.

"We were wondering if we could see Ash?" Brock said politely.

Her suspicious nature suddenly melted. "You must be Misty and Brock," she smiled warmly. "Ash has told me so much about you."

Misty smiled back at her. "That's us. We were just in the area—" the maid looked at her skeptically, and she blushed, "—we decided to boot the fare over here and say hi."

"I thought so." The maid sighed. "Well, I'm sorry, but Ash isn't here right now. He's at school."

"On a Saturday?" Brock question incredulously. The maid smiled at them hopelessly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Ms. Roads, but you can call me Carmen. Just the cook and maid of the place. Come in come in. I just made a light lunch."

Brock and Misty walked in, and Carmen shut the door soundlessly behind them. The room they had entered was enormous, lit by a crystal chandelier overhead. The decor wasn't overdone, but it plainly said that the master of this house was in the money.

"Follow me, please. I know Ash was surprised at the home too."

"Umm," Misty started as they followed the woman. "What time does he get home?"

"Five o'clock, just in time for supper." Carmen set them down on two stools and quickly cut them a sandwich. "How long will you be staying?"

"Our plane leaves tomorrow. It was all we could afford," Brock answered as he took the plate. "Thank you."

"Thanks."

Carmen looked at them. "So you came all the way just to see Ash?" They nodded mutely. "He's a good kid, a little quiet."

Misty choked on her sandwich. "Ash? Quiet?"

"He keeps to himself mostly, very introvert," Carmen nodded. "But he'll be so happy to see you. In fact," her eyes strolled over to the basket. "Why don't you go see him now?"

"Pardon?" Brock questioned, leaning forward.

Carmen picked up the basket. "I usually deliver him lunch, but today my chores just seem to be piling up," she stated in mock remorse. "Would it be too much to ask you to deliver his lunch?"

"We'd love to," Misty smiled broadly.

"Good," Carmen sighed, shoving the basket against Brock. "I'll send Ken around to drop you off. Just go wait outside by the front door, same way you came in." With that, she bustled out of the kitchen and out of sight.

"Ash has to go to school on a Saturday?" Misty repeated, making a face.

Brock looked at her as they tried to find their way back to the door. "What's this about him being quiet, huh?" He smiled weakly.

By the time they stepped out onto the front stepped, the car—limo was waiting for them, door opened. A kind-faced man smiled down at them. "You must be Ash's friends, correct?" He rolled his R's, making it sound like he purred.

"That's us," Brock nodded, carefully sitting down and scooting so Misty could follow. Ken closed the door behind them politely.

"Off to Z.P.S.," Ken smiled, looking in his mirror at them as they started off.

"Z.P.S.?" Brock repeated.

"Ziganka Private School," Ken replied. "One of the best schools in the world."

"Does Ash like it?" Misty asked, pulling her eyes of the passing scenery.

Ken shrugged. "No kid likes school, ma'am. He'd rather be home instead of at school from eight to five six days a week, I'll bet." He looked up at them. "We're almost there."

The passengers nodded. "Where would Ash be?" Misty asked suddenly, looking at the basket on Brock's lap.

"Usually he's by the fence, next to the tree doing his homework, ma'am." Ken pulled up into a driveway. "In fact, there he is, if I'm not mistaken."

Both Misty and Brock pressed their faces against the glass, trying to find their old friend. "Where?"

"Right there, in the back," Ken said, opening their door and helping them out. "See?" He pointed over in the distance at a solitary figure that was working out of a book. "Would you like me to take you back, or would you like to stay with Ash?"

"We'll stay," Brock said. "That's for the ride over though."

"Just doing my job," he smiled, sitting back into the driver's seat. "Hope you have fun." Ken then drove off.

"Brock, open the basket," Misty ordered as she took her bag off her shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

She smiled wickedly. "Just think what he'd do if he saw his Pokémon in here!" Brock grinned back. "Come on," she urged, closing the lid carefully.

They walked along the edge of the green, avoiding the games of the students, but unfortunately not their stares. As they drew closer to the figure, Misty could see that it was Ash, except his hair was neater, cut short, and was wearing a uniform like everyone else at the school, a suit. He still hadn't looked up from his book, except when he occasionally wrote something down on a notebook at his side.

"Hey, stranger," Brock smiled.

Ash literally jumped, his head snapping over towards them. "Guys?" His voice sounded a tad different, deeper.

"Hi!" Misty chirped. "Bet you didn't think you'd see us again, huh? Well you're wrong! You still haven't paid me back for that bike, Ash Ketchum!" She laughed.

"What are you doing here?" he laughed, jumping up, eyes shining.

"Delivering your lunch. Here, take a look. We added something." Brock winked at Misty as he handed the basket over.

Ash took it suspiciously. "What'd you do to it?" he asked as he turned the basket over.

"We didn't do—"

"Hey, Ketchum, who are your friends?" demanded a voice. Misty and Brock both turned to see a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy standing there, surrounded by a little mob. Ash frowned at the boy, not answering. "Where are your manners? Introduce us."

"This is Misty Waterflower, from Cerulean City, and this is Brock Harris, from Pewter City. They're my friends," Ash said lowly. "Brock, Misty, this is Tom."

Tom looked the over critically. He was younger than Misty and Brock, probably Ash's age, but that didn't stop his cockiness. "Don't look like much."

"You wanna say that to me, now?" Misty demanded, raising a clenched fist.

"Easy, Misty," Brock sighed, shaking his head. "We didn't come to fight."

"I could beat you," Tom challenged Misty.

Misty narrowed her eyes at the upstart. "You just go on believing that." She then turned to Ash, purposely ignoring the brat. "So, Ash, how have you been? You're mom's pretty well. Mr. Mime and her have planted this beautiful garden."

Ash was going to answer, but several students had erupted into fits of laughter. "His mom's got a Pokémon!" Ash's face reddened with anger.

"And what's so bad about Pokémon?" Brock demanded.

Tom looked at them critically. "Nothing. It's just that they're so . . . childish. But then again, you would know about that, wouldn't you?"

"Misty and Brock were gym leaders," Ash snapped. "Where are you're manners?" This even caused more laughter to spew from everyone's lips, and Misty and Brock narrowed their eyes at them. Ash was trembling with barely controlled anger.

"How quaint," Tom smiled at them.

"Listen," Ash gritted. "You'd better—"

"Ash! Don't!" Brock and Misty yelled at the same time, but it was too late. Ash had already thrown the basket, and it hit the ground hard.

"Oh, no," Brock groaned.

The Z.P.S. students were cowering back as the Pokémon were released. Charizard let out an especially angry roar, fire raging from its jaws. Squirtle was rubbing its head, and Bulbasaur was looking less that thrilled. Snorlax was, well, snoring; Muk was bobbing up and down. Ash, however, was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Charizard! Bulbasaur! Squirtle! Muk! Snorlax!" he yelled. They all turned their heads to look at him, and then rushed to offer their welcomes. They smashed into him as one, and Ash tumbled down, laughing. "I've missed you too!"

"We thought you would," Brock laughed, helping him up, Muk still hugging the younger boy's legs.

"It was your mom's and Professor Oak's idea!" Misty added.

"We couldn't bring all of them, of course. Professor Oak is having them do a few studies for him, and he's having a conference at him house with important discussions on Pokémon, and then supper later on."

Misty laughed. "He insisted we bring Muk! And Snorlax."

"Look at them." Ash's eyes were shining. "Are they being trained?"

"No. Professor Oak wouldn't let Gary. Of course, Gary wasn't going to do it anyway. Something about Charizard." Misty winked at the lizard.

The fire lizard roared quietly, sending a small gust of smoke out of his nostrils.

"So, Mister Trainer, care to battle?" Brock smiled.

Ash looked over at Brock, startled. "I don't battle anymore," he said quietly.

"SAUR!" Bulbasaur yelled, vine whips ready.

The trio looked at the grass Pokémon, who had gone defensive towards the Z.P.S. Apparently one had thrown a rock on it, for it was nursing a bump on its head.

"Hey, Bulbasaur, easy," Ash commanded gently. "You're tougher than that."

"Doesn't look like much," Tom said. "It's just a little—AHH!" He screamed as Muk prepared to say hi in its own mucky way. "Get this disgusting thing away from me, Ketchum!"

Ash couldn't give any such command, too busy laughing. "Muk still likes people, and still not too choosy. Come on, Muk, get off!"

"Muk, muk!"

"You know the rules, Ketchum! You aren't allowed to bring Pokémon on the property!" Tom sneered. Brock and Misty suddenly looked at each other, immediately aware of the trouble they had gotten Ash into.

"Ash didn't. We did," Misty retorted.

Tom grew enraged at her saying he was wrong. "They're his, then. Lil' Ketchum's in big trouble for this one."

Brock and Misty both looked at Ash, who didn't deny the fact, his face paler.

Charizard growled deeply, eyes narrowing on Tom. The other Pokémon followed the lizard's suit.

"Actually, Ash doesn't have any Pokémon," Brock stated after a moment. Misty waved her hand behind her back at the Pokémon, telling them to keep it up. Professor Oak had explained, or tried to, the situation to them, but they were all still very loyal to Ash. "These are actually Professor Oak's."

"Look like his," snapped a student.

"I'm not allowed to own Pokémon," Ash said lowly, eyes narrowed. "These were mine, but I gave them to Professor Oak."

Tom's face reddened. "Pokémon are stupid, and only those who can't make it in the real world train or study them!"

"Or breed them," Brock added darkly.

"Or raise them," Misty said just as dark.

The Pokémon were also now staring angrily at the troupe, even Muk. Ash's arms were crossed, eyes narrowed. "This is from someone who has never battled in a competition."

"Doesn't look hard," some piped up. "You send that dragon thing out to whip its butt."

Misty smiled evilly. "And I take a little star and tell it to Water Gun it. Fire types are weak against water, and Charizard is no exception. Sure, he could beat Starmie, maybe."

"Or I could use Onix," Brock mussed. "It wouldn't be that hard of a battle."

The lizard growled at the two trainers who were betting its defeat, who laughed nervously.

"Of course, Charizard is at a very high level," Brock added quickly.

Tom looked unimpressed. "Still for losers. Right, Ketchum?"

Ash narrowed his eyes. "Battle against me and we'll see who the loser would be," he said lowly.

"I don't plan to stoop to that level," Tom sneered. "But if you like," he smiled, rolling up with sleeves, "we can fight."

"WHAT ARE THOSE CREATURES DOING ON SCHOOL PROPERTY?" demanded an authoritative voice. The group whirled around to see a man in a suit storming down on them.

"They're Ash Ketchum's, Headmaster Dell," Tom smiled innocently.

The mustached man turned on Ash, who paled under the glare. "Really?"

"We brought them," Misty explained quickly. "And they're not really his."

Headmaster Dell looked them up and down. "Who are you?"

"We're Ash's friends, visiting," Brock said. "I'm Brock, and this is Misty. We weren't aware of the no Pokémon policy on school grounds, and we brought them here. Ash didn't even know."

"They're lying, Headmaster," Tom smiled. "And Ash challenged me to battle him."

Ash said nothing to his defense, and Misty, thinking about it later, was really surprised.

Dell looked at the accused trio, at Ash especially. "You three, come with me. And put those creatures in their little rooms."

They nodded and quickly gathered up the Pokéballs and returned them, while Headmaster Dell disassembled the crowd. "Ash, why didn't you say anything?" Misty hissed. "That jerk is getting you in trouble."

Ash shrugged as he recalled Snorlax, who had been munching on the meal in the basket. "It wouldn't have mattered. But thanks for bringing them." He paused for a moment. "Did you ever find . . .?"

Misty and Brock looked at each other hopelessly. "I'm sorry, Ash, but no one's seen Pikachu at all."

He nodded, turning away quickly.

"Come on, you three," Dell ordered. They all followed him into the school, the schoolyard snickering at their punishment. Dell led them to a room, his office, and had them sit in the chairs in front of his desk, Ash sitting in the middle. Sitting across the desk, Dell looked at them all intently.

"Look, we're sorry," Misty started. "We didn't know."

"Ignorance is no excuse," Dell stated firmly. "You should have asked before you did some an action. Do you know how many students could have been hurt with those creatures around?"

"They wouldn't have hurt anyone," Brock said. "They were just scaring the kids for talking trash about them. Even Charizard wouldn't attack, and that's saying something." Dell looked at him blankly.

"Look, what we're trying to say is that it's not Ash's fault," Misty said. "He didn't even know we were coming. That Tom kid is just a liar."

Dell sat back to look at all three of them. Misty and Brock were both staring back defiantly at him, but Ash was tracing a finger on his pants. "Even still, a very important rule of the school was broken."

"We're sorry!" Misty said. "We'll leave, but understand Ash didn't do anything."

The headmaster nodded. "You're right, you will leave school grounds. I can send a car around to take you back to the Ketchum residence." His eyes lingered on Ash. "Ash won't have it so easy, thanks to your thoughtless actions." Dell shook his head, almost sadly. "What is this, the eighth time?"

"Twelfth," Ash corrected quietly, still not looking up.

"Yes, the twelfth," Dell agreed dutifully, seemingly unhappy that Ash had corrected him. Ash never was a good liar, though. "I told you last time what would happen."

"Yes, Sir."

Brock and Misty were shocked. "Ash didn't do anything!" Brock roared. "Whatever you're going to do, do it to us. We'll wash and clean or whatever."

"Brock will even repair the roof!" Misty added.

Dell ignored them, picking up a phone. "Ms. Barlo, please send a car around the front. Thank you." He pressed another key, looking at the two upset friends. "Please leave. This no longer concerns you."

"But—"

"Guys, just go," Ash said quietly, eyes closed.

They looked at him. "Ash, we're sorry," Misty whispered. "We didn't know."

"I know. Thank you, anyway." He turned his head and gave them a small, forced smile. "It's just a meeting with my father. No biggie." His eyes told a different story. "I'll see you at supper. Okay?"

They couldn't do anything else. "You bet, man," Brock promised.

"I felt so guilty," Misty admitted as she coasted on her bike. "I still do."

Shan shrugged. "You didn't know. There's nothing you can do about it. And Ash didn't seem that mad at you. A little trouble was probably worth seeing his friends and Pokémon again."

"Pi."

Misty sighed. "Even still, we got him into a lot of trouble. Man, I wasn't at the meeting, but I saw Mr. Ketchum when he got home, and he was not pleased." Shaking her head, Misty elaborated. "I mean, it was crazy. He just . . ."

The door was slammed shut, followed by a bout of enraged yelling. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! I WAS RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF A VERY IMPORTANT MEETING AND I GET A CALL FROM YOUR HEADMASTER!"

Carmen looked up from her tray of tea at the two guilty guests, who were eating their soup as quietly as possible. Mr. Ketchum and Ash were over an hour late, coming in at six. "The masters are home," she said lightly.

"You'd better wait in here until it blows over."

"'Orry." Ash's voice was barely audible.

"SORRY'?! IS THAT ALL YOU CAN SAY? SORRY! I PROBABLY LOST AN CRUCIAL CONTRACT THANKS TO YOU!"

"'Orry."

"When the hell are you gonna grow up?" Mr. Ketchum demanded, less loud but still as angry. "Is that an I-Don't-Know shrug? Well?"

"'Es."

"Poor kid," Carmen murmured, pouring another ladle into Brock's plate.

"We shouldn't have come," Misty whispered, cringing as Mr. Ketchum attacked Ash's response.

"I'll tell you when you're gonna grow up—RIGHT NOW! It's time for you to get your damn head out of the bloody clouds! You're gonna be out in the real world soon enough, and blasted Pokémon aren't going to help you!" The voice suddenly stopped, as if gauging how much the words had affected his son. It seemed that it wasn't enough. "Damn it, what should I have expected?" he huffed spitefully. "Leaving you in your mother's care for so long. You're just as flaky as she is. Like mother, like son."

Maybe Mr. Ketchum went a step to far, for Ash suddenly yelled back, "Better than being 'like father, like son!'"

"Really?" Mr. Ketchum said icily.

"Yes! I'd rather be like mom than you!"

"In the real world your mother wouldn't have lasted a second without my help, and neither would you, young man!"

Ash barked a cruel laugh. "I don't recall asking for your help, or asking to come here, or going to that damn school, or to stop training! So why don't you send me back to Mom and get back to your precious contracts and meetings. It's all you ever loved anyway!"

"I don't care for your attitude, young man," Mr. Ketchum growled.

"And I don't care for you!" Ash responded. "In fact, I hate you! You ruined by life!"

"I gave you a life!"

"You took my life away!"

Carmen picked up her tray. "That's my cue," she murmured, then walked out of their sight. Her cheerful voice filled the room. "Tea, anyone?"

"Ms. Roads, did anyone call for me?" Mr. Ketchum asked.

"Yes. The Board was wondering—"

"See! Work comes first for you!" Ash screeched highly. "Why'd you even have me come here? To help your reputation, because family men get more business than loners! That's it, isn't it! You just wanted to improve your standings!"

"We will discuss this later. Anything—"

"I'm not something you can fit into your schedule for an appointment! I'm your damn son! If you're not gonna treat me like it, ship me back to Mom!" Ash raged, ignoring his father's yelling of not to interrupt.

"I'll be in my office," Mr. Ketchum said lowly.

"HELLO!" Ash shrilled, then waited for a response that never came. "Damn you! I hate it here!"

"Hush, dear," Carmen murmured. "Come on, let's get you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry!" he yelled.

"I know, but you're friends are here. Why don't you go get cleaned up, and I'll send them upstairs. Get up, now, and don't give me any of your lip."

"Yes, Carmen."

"And don't roll your eyes at me, young man!" she said, in what sounded like mock-anger.

"Right."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Carmen sighed as she reentered the room. "At least you don't have to see it, though." She smiled at their pale faces as she took their full bowls. "Ash'll see you up in his room. He just needs a few minutes to get presentable."

"Do they fight like that often?" Misty asked after a moment.

Carmen allowed herself a rolling of the eyes. "Not really, only after Mr. Ketchum gets a call from school about Ash. He doesn't understand the hard time his son has adjusting to here. And they both are terribly stubborn and have pride, although in different things. Usually they get along very well, but on very certain issues—grades, Pokémon, calls from school—they tend to have a brawl or two. It'll pass over, though. Don't you worry." The maid chuckled. "Would you like me to lead you to Ash's room?"

"You don't have to," Misty smiled. "I think we can find it with directions."

Carmen smiled. "Up the stairs, down the hall to the left, third door."

"Thanks," Brock smiled as they up.

"Oh, and no Pokémon, please. Mr. Ketchum's temper has been tried enough for one day."

"Right," he agreed while Misty smiled.

"Off with you now."

They walked out of the kitchen and into the main room. The carpeted stairs were in the center, then separated when it reached the wall. They went towards the left and counted the doors. Misty knocked.

The door was opened after a moment. Ash smiled at them weakly, in a pair of sweats, white shirt, and socks, and his hair was tousled a bit more. The only evidence of his recent fight was the slightly flushed cheeks.

"Hey, come in," he smiled warmly, eyes welcoming. "Sorry for the mess."

Misty smiled as she looked in, seeing a large pile of clothes that had tried to be shoved, unsuccessfully, under the bed and in the closet. The desk was hidden under books and papers, presumably his homework, and the bookshelves had piles of books stacked unceremoniously.

"Don't clean it, Brock," Ash sighed, seeing the familiar twitch in his friend's eye. He scratched his head nervously. "Look, I'm sorry for what happened today."

"No, we're sorry." Misty responded forcefully.

He plopped onto his bed, crossing his legs in front of him. "It doesn't matter. So I get a few extra marks and a punishment. Got me out of class." His smile widened, and he ran a hand through his hair. "So how's everything at home?"

"Pretty boring, actually," Brock smiled. "Don't have your big mouth to liven it up. Oh, and I love the letters. 'Hey, doing fine. Hope you're well. Bye. Ash'. Very informative."

"I write them during class," Ash responded feebly, smiling sheepishly.

"Better than mine," Misty laughed, leaning against the wall. "'Working on paying for bike. Am fine. Hope you are too. Ash.' How does he find the time?"

"Between calculus, accounting, and chemistry, I don't know." Ash leaned placed his chin on the palm of his hand. "I have to finish the last twenty questions on page 361, the last five pages in the Accounting assignment, and type a five page resultant paper. Another late nighter."

"Ehh," Misty said, making a face. "I forgive you for the notes."

"That all you have to do?" Brock asked.

Ash chuckled weakly. "No. I still have to prepare a presentation and write the notes for a debate for Tuesday, review marketing and retailing, write my foreign language essay on my life—" he snorted bitterly—"read the last one-hundred fifty pages of some book—that's by Thursday—psychology paper, history notes, practice my challenge, and repeat." He closed his eyes momentarily. "I don't think I've forgotten anything."

"You're talking Chemistry and Calculus? Aren't you a little young?" Brock wondered after he had thought about the whole list that Ash had given them. Misty was staring at Ash in a sort of dumb shock, surprised that the workload Ash put up with, and the fact that he was putting up with it. She seemingly couldn't see him as someone who would take those kind of classes, at least at twelve.

"I get a bit of help," Ash admitted. "But my grades are okay. I think so anyway." He rolled his eyes. "How's Mom?"

"She eagerly awaits your letters, which are a lot longer than ours," Misty smiled. "She has them all in a box and reads them constantly. Gary's off traveling again, and he's going back into the Indigo League to see if he does better. And then the Johto League."

"He will." Ash's tone had the slightest tones of envy.

"Maybe you can come with us," Misty suggested.

Ash looked at her sadly. "Can't. I already asked. See, Mom told me Professor Oak was going and was wondering if I'd like to go along with them."

"Well, we can watch it on TV," Brock suggested.

"Blocked."

"Blocked? You're kidding," he replied. Ash shook his head. "Well, we'll send you a tape, then, and we'll watch it with you."

Ash looked even sadder. "You know something?" he muttered.

"What?"

He jumped from the bed, walked over to his desk, and looked up at them with savage eyes. "I hate it here!" With those words, he cleared the desk with a swipe of his arm, sending all of the books to the floor in a jumbled heaped.

"I HATE IT!"

"After that, he took off," Shan finished.

Misty nodded. "He wrote to his mother telling her not to worry, that he was going to be all right and stuff, before he left. Mrs. Ketchum was over there in a flash, maxed out her credit cards, but Mr. Ketchum paid for it. He didn't even notice Ash was gone. Cops looked everywhere, contacted us all, thought maybe we knew. We didn't know anything."

"He had the courtesy to tell someone," Shan mused.

"Pikachu," the mouse agreed.

"We haven't seen him since, but he writes to Mrs. Ketchum."

"So they should know where he is," Shan concluded.

Misty chuckled. "Actually, Ash was a lot smarter than they figured. He had those letters forwards to so many cities it was nearly impossible to figure out where they came from. He really didn't want to be taken back to his dad's."

"I don't have to ask how Mrs. Ketchum took it, but what about his dad?"

"I told you, he didn't even notice. Sure, he was worried, but he still kept on working."

"Maybe it was his way of coping," Shan supplied. He was quiet for a moment. "Why do you suppose he ran away?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes I think it was so he could be a Master, but no one's heard of him in any competitions. Now I think it was just to get away from his dad. But five years, almost six, jeez, Ash." Misty shook her head sadly.

"Long time." Shan patted Rapidash when it jumped, startled, as a Rattata ran across the path. "Easy, boy. You know, do you think maybe he was afraid to come back?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ashamed. Runaways have a hard life, always hiding. Sometimes they stoop to low levels. Just travel down a few dark alleys," he explained darkly.

"Not Ash."

"You don't know, Misty. He probably had a very hard life after he left his father. He couldn't use his name, he had no Pokémon, by what you said, probably little money and food." Shan sighed. "Things can change in a person. I'll bet you anything your Ash isn't the same you remember, at least totally."

Misty looked over at Shan. He had a point. After all these years, she had always seemed to remember Ash as the ten-year-old she had traveled with. Even when he was with his father during her visit, Ash had acted pretty much the same. Now she realized he would have grown and changed, maybe looking more like his father. He was, after all, going to be 18.

"He might even be dead."

Her bike wobbled. "He just wrote Mrs. Ketchum! He even writes to Mr. Ketchum now, don't ask me why. He's not dead."

Shan looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "My mistake, then. But I am just saying Ash couldn't go to the hospital, centers, and the public eye. He wouldn't have battled if everyone were looking for him. No, if he ran away, he had to have this planned right, or did it by sheer Luck and Chance."

"That's Ash."

He paused again, changing the direction of the conversation. "What are you going to say when you see him?"

"I'm going to say he's an idiot for running away for so long, and then give him the biggest hug," Misty smiled.

She saw that Shan smiled as well, although it looked like he did it out of pity. His hand stroked Pikachu's head.

"Pikapi . . ." it cooed, eyes closed in happiness.

Misty knocked while Shan recalled Rapidash. Mrs. Ketchum opened it almost instantly, like she had been standing there, just waiting for it to have someone behind it. "Hi, Misty," she smiled, eyes bright and ready, although she looked a tad disappointed that it was just Misty.

Deep down, Misty knew Ash had done the right thing to write to his mom. It had made the years easier on her, making it seem like he was just traveling again. Mrs. Ketchum didn't look any older, although she really was just several years shy of forty.

"Guess what?" she said gleefully, hands clasped together. "Ash sent me a bouquet of roses today, and a letter, saying he'll be here at five tomorrow! Scout's honor." She was almost jumping up in down with the excitement. "The last address was from Cerulean too!"

"Really?" Misty asked gleefully. Mrs. Ketchum nodded, then looked at Shan curiously. "Oh, sorry Mrs. Ketchum. This is Shan. I met him on the way down. He's the Indigo League winner."

He smiled warmly at her, a lot warmer than he had smiled at Misty. "Hello," he greeted, bowing his head.

"Pikachu!"

Mrs. Ketchum's eyes watered at the sight of Pikachu, but she smiled bravely. "Come in, come in. Make yourself comfortable."

"Mime, mime!" Mr. Mime said, offering them a plateful of cookies. Shan took one respectfully, and then settled on a chair at the corner.

"So how are you doing, Mrs. Ketchum?" Misty asked as they sat down on a couch.

She smiled broadly. "Counting down the minutes before my little man returns." Her hands were twirling on her lap nervously.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to be back," Shan spoke. "If anything, for the cooking."

Mrs. Ketchum looked at Shan. "Thank you." Her eyes went over the face of the blond trainer. "You do look familiar . . ."

"He was the one that beat Gary last year," Misty smiled. "Remember the oaths Gary swore, and the pictures he ripped to shreds." Shan raised an interested eyebrow.

Mrs. Ketchum nodded her head while Shan looked at her intently, as if asking her if she had seen him somewhere else, an interested glimmer on his face. "Yes, probably."

"Pikachu?" The tiny mouse had been sitting on the table, looking between the two, then leaped onto her owner's lap. "Pi chu, Pikapi?"

"Not now, Pikachu," Shan said offhandedly in a quiet tone.

Pikachu looked at her owner slightly upset, but conceded to his wishes, curling down onto his lap. "Chu, pikachu," she sighed.

"What did she want?" Mrs. Ketchum asked.

Shan looked at Mrs. Ketchum like he was debating whether he should answer the question. "She just wanted to know if she could leave, no offense to you. She likes to tour towns."

"So that's why she wasn't with you when you went to the gym?" Misty asked.

"Yes. Normally I pick her up just outside, as you saw."

"Aren't you afraid someone would capture her?" Mrs. Ketchum asked, eyes falling towards nostalgia.

Shan shook his head. "No."

"Pi!" She looked like she was laughing. Shan smiled at her slightly.

"You must have traveled a lot, Shan?" Mrs. Ketchum murmured.

He looked up at her, knowing were the conversation was headed. "I've met a lot of people Mrs. Ketchum, but I rarely learned who they were. We all have something we want only to ourselves."

Misty was relieved that he didn't tell about how Ash might have become some junkie or murderer. At least he was tactful.

"You shouldn't worry though. Your son will come back," Shan promised solemnly.

Of that, Mrs. Ketchum seemingly had no doubt. "I know he will."

"Good morning, Misty," Mrs. Ketchum chirped as she prepared breakfast.

Misty rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm as she sat down. "Morning." She looked at the woman, who seemed to be bustling with even more energy, a nervous energy. "The big day, huh?"

"Oh, yes, yes," she replied, eyes watering. "Finally. Would you like some scrambled eggs?"

Misty nodded, then looked around. "Where's Shan?" He had claimed the couch, even though Mrs. Ketchum had a perfectly fine room available.

"He's wandering Pallet, I believe. He is a polite young gentleman, isn't he?"

"Yes. Did you know he plays the flute?"

Mrs. Ketchum stopped moving around the small kitchen. "Really?" she asked in a faraway voice. "I thought I heard something like that this morning, but I couldn't figure out where. It was very beautiful, but sad. I knew I heard it before . . ." She drifted off, eyes dreamy.

"They had music at the League last year, but I never looked at the musicians," Misty added. "Wish I had."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course." Mrs. Ketchum went back to breakfast, a faraway look on her face. "You know, this morning he wandered into Ash's old room. We had a delightful chat. He is a terribly early riser, you know."

"I know," Misty nodded, toying with her eggs. "What did you talk about?"

Mrs. Ketchum tilted her head slightly. "Ash, mostly. When I found him in Ash's room, he started to apologize . . ."

Mrs. Ketchum was walking down the hall, unable to sleep anymore. First, from the excitement in the prospect that Ash was coming home, and then because of that melody she had heard, or thought she heard, or dreamed. It had sounded so familiar.

She walked down the hall when she came across a room whose door, which was usually shut, was open, and light beamed out into the hallway. It was hard to keep her hopes down as she peered in.

"Hello?" she whispered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone turn. "Shan?"

"Good morning," he greeted quietly, replacing a plush Venonat that he had been holding back on the shelf.

"What are you doing in here?" Her voice must have sounded terribly accusing.

Shan looked at her with those piercing blue eyes. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that this room was off-limits," he apologized. "I was just curious as to what was behind the door. Misty had told me that this had been Ash's room."

She flushed. "I'm sorry. It's okay that you're in here." She walked in and picked up a small glass Pikachu. "This was Ash's room, yes. I had just been . . ." Mrs. Ketchum trailed off, not able to say her wish out-loud.

"You saw the light on and thought maybe your son had returned early," Shan finished knowingly. She nodded dutifully. "That maybe you could catch him so he could never escape again."

Again Mrs. Ketchum blushed. "You are very observant," she smiled, looking at him. Shan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "How old are you?"

"18, as of late. That's why I'm leaving the Indigo League. I think I'm too old."

"It must have been hard to make that decision."

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't. I've made a lot harder ones in my life."

Mrs. Ketchum sat down on the bed, then patted the space next to her. Shan moved over carefully. "Tell me," she murmured as she studied his young face. "What do you think happened to my son? And be honest."

Shan ran his hand through his hair as he thought. "What I'd like to have happened, or what most likely happened, like in other runaway cases?"

Her eyes closed. "The second," she whispered.

He sighed. "Most runaways, if they aren't found or return, usually have a hard time. Some resort to stealing and other less preferred occupations. Others meet up with the wrong people, and get into such a tangled web that there's no chance of escape. Some become druggies, murderers." He shook his head sadly. "I've ran into a few in the bigger cities. Some have even tried to do me in, but I'm pretty wary." Mrs. Ketchum nodded her head, listening. "Some of them I buy lunch, and listen to them talk, if they want to. I don't pressure them, though."

"What do they talk about?"

"Lies. Why they're where they are, their lives, their problems. I never correct them, even though I know they're lying."

"What do you do, then? I mean, how can you stand it?" Mrs. Ketchum's eyes were shut, like she had dreamed of such things.

Shan looked at her face, tears coming from under her closed eyelids. "I can't help them if they don't want to be helped. But I'm not heartless." He made a small smile. "Some of them turn me down in the offer, but a few accept it."

"What do you offer?" Mrs. Ketchum whispered.

"A phone call."

Mrs. Ketchum opened her eyes to look at the trainer. "That's all?"

"Yes. They don't have to talk; I'd do it for them. They can ask any question they want, and I'll forward it to whoever is on the other end. It's like testing the waters, I suppose."

She eyes widened. "Are you doing that now?" Fear was in her voice.

Shan locked eyes with her. "If I were, would it matter?"

"N-no. But are you?"

"No," he answered honestly—she could hear the ring of truth. "Ash Ketchum never asked me to do this, and I never made the offer. I'm only here because Misty invited me."

"So you have seen my son?" Mrs. Ketchum asked, eyes hopeful.

"Yes, I have." Shan paused, then continued. "Recently."

Her eyes sparkled. "How is he?"

It seemed that Shan was questioning whether or not he should tell her. "He's okay, I suppose," he said at last.

"He hasn't done anything terrible, has he?"

"Aside from running away? Not especially." Shan looked at Mrs. Ketchum. "I know he misses you though." Again he paused. "Tell me, why do you think he ran away?"

Mrs. Ketchum bit her bottom lip. "Did he ever tell you?"

"I think as the years go by, runaways forget the real reason they ran away. I don't ask."

She nodded. "Sometimes I think he did run away to be a Pokémon Master. He really wanted to."

"Sometimes?"

Mrs. Ketchum winced. Somehow she knew Shan would catch the word choice. "I embarrassed him so much as a child. I didn't mean to, but I did," she sniffed. "Some nights I blame myself that he ran away. He ran away to get away from us, me and Li." She gripped her trembling shoulders. "I was a terrible mother."

Shan was quiet, watching the scene. He moved his lips soundlessly for a moment. "Do you really think so?" he asked at length.

"I must have been."

With his elbows on his knees, Shan brought his hands up to his face like he was praying and took a deep breath. "You think so? You really think so? Do you really think a boy who hated his mother would bother to write and say he was all right on a very regular basis? That on more than one of the worst occasions he faced he never wanted anything more than to come back home to his mother's loving and protective arms? Is that what you really believe?"

Mrs. Ketchum looked at him with wet eyes. "You really think so?"

Shan turned his head and looked at her with his penetrating blue eyes. "If I was him, yes, I would have." He gave her an honest smile. "He didn't run away because you were a lousy mother."

She took confidence in his words. "Thank you," she smiled weakly. Then her eyes distanced. "But what about Li?"

Again Shan looked away and thought about it again. "At some level, every boy loves his father," he said slowly. "The restrictions placed upon him, maybe. Lack of attention, possibly. One too many fights. Some kind of challenge." Shan shrugged. "I don't know your husband. How did he take it, by the way?" He looked at Mrs. Ketchum again.

"As well as Li can take anything, I suppose," Mrs. Ketchum sighed. "We separated years ago, when Ash was a toddler. Li didn't want . . . couldn't raise Ash, he was always so busy. When we got the wake-up call that Ash was growing up, I guess he didn't understand what he was getting into. Li was so used to having everything under complete control, but having Ash around doesn't guarantee that." Mrs. Ketchum gave Shan a brief smile. "They're both stubborn and hard-headed, both expecting the other to fix their ways to meet the other's."

"Doomed from the start," Shan murmured, eyes closed.

"No. I do blame Li," she said firmly. "Ash needed attention, what Li couldn't give. I firmly believe Ash would have accepted his new home there if Li had made time for him."

Shan nodded in silent agreement. "Is he going to be here?"

"Li said he would." She looked at Shan. "Li really isn't as bad as Misty probably led you to believe. He just didn't know who to handle a family, a son. You had head blooming business and can't even work out problems with your own family. Ash really did have a nice time there." She dared him to contradict the truth

Shan nodded. "How could you have survived over these past five years?"

Mrs. Ketchum shrugged. "I really don't know. Ash's letters really helped, and Misty and Brock always come around, and so does Gary. He used to be a rival of Ash's, but I know they respected each other very much. Did you know that one time they almost found him?"

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. "The police say the Growlithe found his scent, and they trailed it to a storage closest, where they store the soaps, fabric softeners, bleach, and stuff, I think. And he was there—he must have been scared away, but they found a half-written letter to me. They think he must have jumped into the river to escape, because they couldn't find another scent."

"Wow," Shan muttered. He stroked his chin. "Tell me, what do you think would have happened to Ash had he returned?"

Mrs. Ketchum closed her eyes. "The police were talking about taking family therapy," she murmured. "And foster homes." Her voice was terribly quiet.

"Do you think he knew that?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "You know what's really depressing, though?"

"What?"

"Well, I always figured Ash would love to see his Pokémon when he came back. I've been planning his welcome-back party since Ash said he was coming back," she admitted. Shan smiled. "But some years again, when there were those computer hackers around, they were stolen from Professor Oak's lab, along with a lot other trainers'."

"Really?" Shan turned his head quickly.

She nodded. "The other trainers' Pokémon came back to Pallet, back to Professor Oak's lab, but not Ash's. I always thought maybe they went to go find him, but he never mentioned it in his letters."

Again he nodded. "What are you going to do when Ash comes through that door?" he asked after silence surrounded them.

"I dream about that moment, but I really don't know," Mrs. Ketchum admitted. "I still she him as my little boy. I can't see him as a full-grown man."

Shan smiled at her. "I like that response," he said quietly. "It's truly honest."

Mrs. Ketchum turned her brown eyes towards the trainer. "Pardon?"

He turned away from her gaze. "You acknowledge that Ash will be different when he returns. He could have a completely different persona from what you remember. Not many are ready for that. I hope you are, though. He might be afraid of that."

"He's still my son." Mrs. Ketchum was surprised at the conviction in her voice.

"Yes." Shan nodded, eyes closed.

"Is something wrong?" she asked after a moment, watching the trainer.

Shan looked a deep breath. "No. Just thinking," he murmured.

Mrs. Ketchum narrowed her eyes critically "You don't look too well. Are you ill?"

"In mind or in body?" he replied lightly, turning his head to smile half-heartedly at her. "I'm fine. Just extremely preoccupied. I think I have to get some air, if you don't mind."

"Yes, that might help," she agreed as he stood up. "You will be back later?"

"I believe so." His eyes look one last look over the room, smiling. "I like the room."

"I knew he knew something," Misty muttered. She snapped her fingers. "I bet I he knows where Ash is, and he's going to meet him!"

Mrs. Ketchum looked at her, eyes bright. "I bet he does, and I want him to tell Ash I want him back. I don't care what he did; I miss my little boy." Her bottom lip trembled.

Misty kept her eyes on Mrs. Ketchum. "Well, I'm going to find Shan and force him to bring Ash out of hiding," she muttered to herself. "Mrs. Ketchum, I'm going to go to Professor Oak's, okay?"

"All right," Mrs. Ketchum said off-handedly, mind somewhere else.

She stood up and quietly left. As she was about to leave by the front door, Misty paused to look at the pictures that graced the wall. There was the happy Ketchum family, all three of them. Next to it was what looked like a four-year-old Ash at a Pokémon Petting Zoo covered in the Pokémon and laughing. The pictures progressed year by year, either Ash or Ash and Mrs. Ketchum in them. One picture Misty smiled at, having her and Ash dancing in their kimonos. There were three pictures that seemed to have been taken while Ash was at his father's. The first looked like a typical portrait. The second seemed Ash waving while he balanced on a balcony (Misty figured his mom might have had a heart attack when she saw that one) at a very crappy angle. The third she had to squint to find Ash—it seemed like it was a school function or something. After much straining of the eyes, she spotted Ash in the middle a few rows back.

"I wonder what this is a picture of?" she muttered, fingering the frame.

"Pi?"

Misty looked down at the mouse, which was looking up at her interested. "Hey, there? Do you know where Shan is?"

She smiled happily. "Pika."

"I want to talk to him." Misty forced a pleasant smile. "Can you take me to him?"

The Pokémon nodded and scurried out the door towards the forest, Misty following quickly. As they went deeper, Misty started to have doubts that Pikachu was even taking her to Shan. This was in the middle of nowhere.

Finally she opened her mouth. "Pikachu, are you sure Shan's out here?"

The Pokémon stopped running to look at her. "Pi!" She pointed deeper into the forest. "Chu pika pikachu!"

Misty shook her head. "Look, I know Shan knows something about Ash."

"Pikapi?" Pikachu backed away slowly.

"And you know it too," Misty accused, seeing the obvious motion.

Pikachu looked wildly around, still backing away. Then, within a second, it twirled and ran back deeper in the forest.

"Come back here!" Misty ordered futile, picking up her speed.

It was easy to see the bright yellow rodent as it ran, but as she ran, Misty heard other noises, like yelling. The yells caused her curiosity to pique than her interest in Pikachu. She slowed her running and started to follow the sounds.

"DUCK! WEAVE!" a voice ordered.

"Hit mon!"

"Almost. Just a bit faster."

"Mon, mon!" It sounded like it was laughing.

The voice laughed as well. "I know, I know! Just some more. We've got to practice, and Hitmonlee's leg muscle is strained, so you have to deal with me."

"Chan hitmon!"

"What, can't beat me?"

Misty suddenly found herself in a makeshift clearing, one that had been burned away. Somehow she wasn't surprised when she saw Shan stripped to the waist and boxing with a Hitmonchan. Actually, it was more like he was trying to stay away from the fists, which were moving faster than she could see.

Suddenly Pikachu came raging in. "PIKAPI!"

Bad timing.

"Wha—" With his attention diverted, Hitmonchan's fist had a perfect aim for Shan's cheek. "AH!"

"PIKAPI!"

"HITMONCHAN!"

Shan pushed himself off the ground, hand against his cheek. "I'm all right," he muttered. "Nice punch." He smiled up at the nervous and worried Hitmonchan. "Now what, Pikachu?"

"Pika pikachu chu—" She was interrupted by Misty clapping.

"Nice, very nice," she smiled, coming closer.

Shan stood up. "Hitmonchan, return," he murmured. The Pokémon disappeared.

"Fighting with a Hitmonchan? Not exactly the brightest thing to do. They can throw punches faster than the speed of light, don'tcha know?"

"I know," Shan said quietly as he picked up his shirt that had been hanging on a tree branch. "What do you want?"

Misty watched as he put the shirt on. "You know where Ash is, don't you?"

"I assume you mean Ash Ketchum?" Shan replied casually, running a hand over his cheek. "I hope this doesn't bruise."

"You know I mean Ash Ketchum!" she snapped, not caring about his profile. "Where is he?"

He shrugged. "How should I know?"

"You know, don't deny it," Misty said, gripping him by the color. It would have been better if he had been shorter and she had been stronger. Shan merely looked down at her, half amused, half-annoyed.

"Let go of me, please." He waited until she removed her hands before he continued to speak. "Misty, I admit I have seen Ash recently, but I will not tell you where he is." He held up a hand when she prepared to interrupt.

"You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because, Misty, you should know."

He turned on his heel and started to walk away, Pikachu following.

"And what's that mean?"

"Are you his friend, or aren't you?" He stopped to grab his bag.

"Of course I am!"

"Then either figure out where he'd be, or wait until five. Your choice."

"Why did you lie to me?" Misty demanded, catching up to him.

"I never said I never met him," Shan said gravely.

"You implied!"

He looked straight ahead. "You assumed."

Misty's cheeks turned red. "Are you Ash's friend?"

"Depends on the definition of friend, I suppose," Shan said neutrally. "But, if you mean by friend, how can I allow him to do this? Why don't I just drag him out of hiding?"

"Yes!"

He shrugged, looking around as they left the trees. It seemed Shan knew how to get out of the forest faster than she knew how to get in. He ran a hand through his bangs. "What makes you think he's hiding?"

"What are you talking about?"

Shan shrugged. "Is Ash hiding? And if he is, what is he hiding from, if he's hiding at all?"

"I don't understand you or your riddles," Misty complained quietly.

He looked at Misty for a moment, then turned to look where they had exited the forest. "Professor Oak's, correct?"

"Didn't you say something about getting your Pokédex updated?" Misty asked sarcastically, suddenly feeling like he had planned this.

"That I did." He started to make his way towards the building. "Do you think he's home?"

Misty was quiet for a moment. "He should be, right now anyway. He's going to go to the Ketchum house to wait for Ash though." She seemed to run their past conversation through her head. "Are you saying I'm not Ash's friend?"

"I'm saying that if you are Ash's friend, you would know where he is. He could be right under your nose, so to speak." He raised his eyes brows at her. "So keep a look-out, hmm?"

Misty narrowed her eyes at him. "You are seriously annoying."

Shan started to climb the steps to the house. "I hope he doesn't mind." With that, he knocked on the door.

The door was opened. "Hello. Can I—YOU!" Gary Oak locked his eyes on Shan's neutral face. "What the hell are you doing here!"

"Nice to see you too, Mr. Oak. I was hoping your grandfather could up-date my Pokédex. How is your training going?"

"I'm going to win this year at the League," Gary swore as he stepped aside.

Shan smiled. "Good luck then. My Pokédex?"

"Yes, follow me," Gary said smartly, smirking. "I've been training all year, just so you know."

"I wouldn't except anything else."

"Gary, I think—" Misty started.

"So this year, I'm coming home with the trophy."

"I don't doubt it."

Gary narrowed his eyes at Shan, thinking that the champion was mocking him. "You'd better not. Grandpa?"

"Yes, Gary?" Oak smiled, looking up from his work. "Ah, I see we have company. Hello Misty, and . . . "

Gary finished the greeting. "This is Shan."

Oak smiled. "So you're Shan. My grandson had a lot to say about you from last year's competition."

Shan smiled weakly. "So I have heard." He dug into his back pocket. "I was wondering if you could up-date this for me." He held out his Pokédex. "I would appreciate it very much."

"I'd be delighted," Oak smiled, taking the computer. "Are you training at the moment?"

"Off and on. At the moment I'm merely traveling."

"Well, I suggest you get training a lot more," Gary smiled. "I've been working doubly hard just to beat you."

"I'm glad to give you the motivation."

Oak smiled as he tapped the keys on the keyboard. "Gary has worked very hard in hopes that he can challenge you in this years league games."

"He might find that difficult," Misty finally burst out. "Since Shan isn't competing this year."

"You're WHAT!" Gary demanded. "How can you just drop out?"

Shan looked at him blankly. "It is my choice."

Gary clenched his fists. "Well, then I challenge you to a battle."

"Is beating me that important to you?"

Oak smiled. "Gary wants only to fight the best."

"When are you going to Mrs. Ketchum's, Professor Oak?" Misty asked, ignoring Gary as he tried to engage Shan into a staring contest.

"I was going to head over there just after I finished putting away these files and set up the security measures."

"Are you going to be there, Shan?" Gary asked.

"I suppose I am under contract, so to speak," Shan smiled, bending down to pet Pikachu, who had remained quiet for the whole ordeal.

"Pika!" she agreed, jumping up to his shoulder and resting onto his pack.

Oak looked interested. "My, that is a very fine Pikachu." The computer suddenly beeped, signifying the completion of the up dating. "Here you go, Shan."

"Thank you, Professor."

"You know I've got an idea," Gary smiled. "We'll have our battle when Ash comes back, sort of a welcome home."

"That sounds nice," Misty smiled. "Ash would like that."

"What do you say, Shan?" Oak smiled.

"Sounds like a battle." He smiled. "You decide the rules."

"Three on three, no time limit," Gary smiled. "Better get ready. Less than five hours."

"Pika!" Pikachu promised, shocks escaping her cheeks.

Shan laughed heartily, which surprised Misty terribly. She hadn't heard him laugh yet. A chuckle here or there, a grim little laugh, but never a laugh like that. It was disturbingly . . . déjà vu. "Until the battle, Gary Oak."

Gary smirked. "Ready, Grandpa?"

Oak nodded. "Oh, yes. I hope Mrs. Ketchum has prepared a big lunch."

"Is Tracey coming?" Misty asked.

"He's already left."

"Pikapi! Chu pikachu pika!" Pikachu said to Shan, eyes closed happily. He nodded, eyes closing as well.

"I remember, Pikachu. I remember," he murmured.

"Remember what?" Misty asked.

Shan smiled at her. "The Alamo." His comment met blank stares, and he sighed. "I remember the morning. Let's get going, Pikachu." They started down the hall.

"Strange," Oak mused.

"He's a nut," Gary said.

Misty shook her head.

The bell tolled the fourth hour, and everyone looked nervously around. One more hour to go!

"Mime, Mr. Mime." Mr. Mime smiled, offering sandwiches.

Misty looked around. Tracey was sitting next to professor Oak and Brock, talking about recent findings in the different Pokémon aspects that he had noticed. she could tell by how fast her was talking that he was worried. Professor Oak seemed to be a lot more worried than he had been at him lab, and Brock hadn't once mentioned a girl's name. Mrs. Ketchum was nervously sitting, and Mr. Ketchum—Misty couldn't believe he even showed up—was tapping a pencil. The only idea of amusement to be found was Gary—in an effort to make time go by faster—trying to talk to Shan, who was seemingly mediating. Pikachu was resting on his lap. They were the only ones unaffected by time.

There were no decorations. Friends were enough. Mrs. Ketchum knew her son well enough.

No one was placing the blame. They were all past the blame game. Now they could only wait.

The minutes ticked by. Five after . . . four ten . . . quarter after . . . twenty after . . . four thirty. The voices spoke in quiet tones, eyes watching the clock.

"May I use your phone?" Shan suddenly asked, interrupting Gary in mid-sentence.

Mrs. Ketchum looked up. "Why, yes."

"Thank you." Everyone watched him pick up the phone, as they seemed to understand that Shan, in a way, did know where Ash was. Carefully, he dialed a number, but did not sit in front of the screen.

Shan said nothing, but nodded slightly every now and then. Then he placed the phone back down.

"Pi ka?"

Everyone watched Shan as he opened his pack and withdrew a small laptop. Within seconds, he was typing rapidly.

"What are you doing?" Gary asked, amazed at the flurry the fingers flew across the screen.

Shan didn't respond. Pikachu looked at her master in a pleased sort of light, nodding her head. "Chu pikachu ka pika pikachu chu, Pikapi." She nosed into his bag, and then came back with a small treat. Shan didn't notice.

After almost fifteen minutes—four forty-five—he stopped typing and closed the computer, setting into onto the table. Shan rubbed his eyes wearily, and for once Misty saw something flicker behind them—a kind of worry or fear. "Excuse me," he murmured, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Gary demanded.

"To shower. I feel tense and dirty," he said as he made his way up the stairs.

"Ash'll be here in like ten minutes," Misty said hotly.

"I know."

"Weird," Brock said.

"You've just met the guy. Wait until you get to know him," Misty promised. "If you even can."

Gary looked at the computer, opening the top. "I wonder what he was doing?"

"Pikachu!" Pikachu scolded, although she seemed to be very cheerful.

"Mime, mime!" Mr. Mime smiled, walking around dumbly. It knocked into Shan's pack, causing the contents to spew around.

"Pika pikachu!"

Gary's eyes were wide. "Look at all those Pokéballs."

"There must be over a hundred!" Brock exclaimed.

Pikachu was trying wildly to round them up, but Mr. Mime was no help. He fell to the ground hard on the rolling balls.

Mrs. Ketchum leaped up. "Mimey, are you all right?"

"M-mime." Its eyes were wavering.

"Pika!" Pikachu huffed, finally succeeding in getting all of the balls, more or less, into a pile.

"What's this?" Tracey asked, picking up what looked like a notebook.

"Put that back, Tracey. It's not yours," Oak reprimanded, although he too was curious.

"Oh, Grandpa, just a little look," Gary sighed, taking the book away from Tracey. "We all know he knows something." He flipped the book open and started to scan it. "It says—"

"Pika-CHUU!" The tiny Pokémon, seemingly upset at the lack of privacy Gary was showing her master, released a Thunderbolt. "Pika, pikachu!" she said, talking the smoldering book back from a twitching Gary in the air of "It serves you right."

Mr. Ketchum looked at the little mouse, which looked back defiantly. "I agree with her. You shouldn't go through other people's papers," he said quietly. Pikachu blinked in surprise.

"Pika?"

Gary pushed himself up. "All right, all right," he muttered.

"What's this?" Brock asked, retrieving something Mr. Mime had kicked under the chair. He opened it, wary of Pikachu. "It's a flute?"

"Shan plays," Misty explained. "He's really good too."

"Wow," Gary muttered.

Mr. Ketchum seemed slightly interested. "Can I see that for a moment?" Brock handed the instrument with a slightly confused expression, and Mr.. Ketchum looked down. "Don't you dare shock me, little rodent," he muttered.

"Pi!"

He put the flute together carefully, then traced his finger along the side. "Ash was in orchestra," he murmured.

"He was really good at it." Mrs. Ketchum's eyes shone brightly. "He had that beautiful solo."

"Ash was in band?" Gary repeated.

"Orchestra," Mr. Ketchum corrected.

"What did he play?" Tracey asked. Even Misty and Brock leaned forward. They must have missed that part of Ash's school schedule.

Mr. Ketchum didn't answer, lost in memory. Neither did Mrs. Ketchum. Both of their eyes were glazed over.

The clock on the wall suddenly chimed the hour.

There was a knock at the door. Everyone looked at it, surprised. Ash. . . on time? Misty mused. Mrs. Ketchum didn't even budge, rooted to the spot. It was Tracey who finally opened the door, as he was nearest.

"Yes?" he asked quietly, as he opened the door.

The person at the door was certainly not Ash. She had deep green hair and a delivery outfit on, the nametag reading "Jane", and was standing next to a dolly with a large box on it "Hello," she chirped. "I have a delivery to be made to this house. If you would please sign here." Tracey took the board dumbly and scrawled his name on it. "Thank you. And here you go."

"T-thank you," he stuttered and she pushed the dolly into the house and deposited the box in the middle of the group.

"I wonder what's in it?" Brock voiced the question on everyone's mind as soon as Jane left.

"I suppose we have to open it to find out," Oak smiled slightly.

Slowly they closed in on the box. Mrs. Ketchum lifted off the lid and looked in. Everyone gasped slightly at the shimmering gold.

"Trophies, badges, and plaques . . ." Brock murmured.

Misty picked up a small box and opened it. Twelve tiny badges looked up at her, all in the shape of stars. "'Badges of Ash S. Ketchum, Constellation League'."

"The what league?" Gary demanded.

"That's on the outer edge of the Dark Mountains," Professor Oak said quietly. "Very dangerous League, I've heard. No one goes there anymore, because of the death rate."

Misty snapped the case shut as quietly as possible. Tracey pulled out his own specimen. "'A. S. Ketchum'," he whispered. "'Avian League Winner'."

"They're along allowed to use flying type, preferably birds," Oak explained.

"Shan was right. Ash wasn't hiding," Misty murmured. "He was just where we weren't looking."

Gary had a very determined look on his face as he dug deeper. "The Ratwa Competition, the Ossature Sectional, the Pooka Region . . .Grandpa, why didn't you tell me about these places?"

"I thought those Leagues were gone or dissembled. No one's gone to the Pooka Region since before I was even born, and the others, those were legends . . . although maybe not."

"Hey, look, that looks like an Indigo League Trophy!" Brock said suddenly, digging in the box.

"It is! But that's impossible!" Gary argued. "We would have seen him."

"Pika pikachu pi ka chupi pikachu," Pikachu said simply.

"What?" Gary demanded.

"I think she said the best way to hide is to be where everyone can see you," Brock said, unsure. Pikachu nodded her agreement.

Oak politely took the trophy away from Brock and prepared to read the label. "According to this, Ash S. Ketchum won—"

"Transfer complete!" the computer chimed happily, could it be happy. "Account of Ash S. Ketchum up-dated. Have a nice day!" Everyone looked at the computer intently, demanding it explain its statement.

Brock carefully lifted the screen up and read the message quickly. "According to this, some kind of transaction was made to or from . . . Ash's account." He read the message. "Present balance: 67 mill—" He stopped and reread the screen. "67 million, 750 thousand, five-hundred 46, and 43 dollars, plus 15 cents."

"How in heaven's name could he get—" Mr. Ketchum started, but then stopped, looking at the screen, Ash's name blinking.

Everyone could hear the sound of the quiet footsteps coming down the steps, it was so quiet. Pikachu looked up and smiled, running over to her master. "Shan, could you please explain this," Misty demanded, turning to face him.

Shan stood there, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall. His eyes, hidden under the damp blond bangs, seemed different. "Explain what?" he asked quietly.

"What is this about?" Brock demanded. The eyes flickered over to the screen. "And these, the trophies?"

"Won in competition. I saw them being won." His voice was quiet.

"Then where is Ash?" Tracey asked.

Shan shrugged. "If you don't know . . ." He sounded sad.

"I know where," Mrs. Ketchum said quietly.

"As do I," Mr. Ketchum agreed, his eyes lingering a moment longer on the screen. He still held the flute.

Shan nodded towards the instrument. "That's mine," he said quietly.

Professor Oak had not interest in interrogating Shan. "Where is Ash?" he asked the parents. Everyone's eyes, even Shan's, lingered on them.

Time seemed to have stopped, tears trickling down Mrs. Ketchum's cheeks. And suddenly she ran and enveloped Shan in the tightest hug.

"You're back," she sobbed. "I've missed you so much!"

Shan closed his arms around her. "Me too," he whispered, brown eyes shining.

Misty understood what Sha—Ash had meant now as she sat at the dinner table. She had remembered him as the twelve-year-old too much. She couldn't grasp the idea that Ash would have to change in order to stay hidden. Now she looked at Ash at the front of the table, while they prodded him for what had all happened to him.

Blond hair, she didn't expected that. He bleached it—almost caught in the storage closet, with bleach—and then the blue contacts. All a charade to remain out of sight. Ash wasn't the loud boy she had known, not anymore. He was quiet and reserved, some part of him hidden from everyone. Now he was polite, almost to the point of being shy. Instead of clumsy, his motions were thought out and graceful.

Ash had spoken little, almost as must as Shan had. Ash, Shan . . .he had only rearranged the letters and added another to create his new name. It was easy, he said, to hack into computers and forge documents. It was easy to bypass security and create himself a new Pokédex for this persona. It was even easy to hack into Professor Oak's lab and retrieve his Pokémon when everyone was worried about the hackers. They always asked what you wanted put on your trophy, the name you wanted on it. And no one actually reads trophy labels . . .

The money? He did get awards for winning, and interest added up. But, five years, it was a long time. So many competitions, so many winnings, so many expeditions. The other Leagues held winning highly, Ash said . . .

The matter with Pikachu? Pikachu never ran away. She had returned during the night and put herself into a Pokéball—Pikachu, in a Pokéball, for him—and stowed away in his suitcase. He hadn't known until he unpacked, but he had to pretend, to lie. Pikachu hid around the grounds and in his room on the cold nights. And Pikachu called him "Pikapi", like she had done years before. Misty never noticed.

The picture on the wall, the orchestra. So obvious now that she thought about it, that he might—and did—play the flute. He was standing where flutes sit in an orchestra. And the picture of him on the mantel, at such a low angle. Who could have taken it but Pikachu?

She had been so blind, she thought as she looked at Ash. He looked so out of place, like he didn't belong here.

Why had he run away? Ash couldn't, or he wouldn't, answer it. No one was sure which it was.

Misty shook her head sadly, blue eyes on Ash, who was toying with his food as they continued there delicate questions. That's not Ash, she thought. Ash Ketchum is dead.

It was a very numbing and colossal statement. She thought it again.

Ash Ketchum is dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter one: The Proper Way to Tell a Story

"Coffee, regular."

"Vanilla cappuccino, please."

"Coffee, decafe."

"Tea, thank you."

The waitress smiled as she wrote down their orders. "Your orders will be here in just a few moments," the violet-haired vixen promised, then strolled away.

Tracey leaned over to Brock. "Are you sure you saw him come in here?"

"Hmm," Brock murmured, eyes looking over it the distance.

Misty unceremoniously rolled her eyes and whapped him smartly on the head. "Stop staring at Judy's rear," she ordered. "God, haven't you grown out of the testosterone phase _yet_?"

Brock rubbed the back of his head and looked sullenly at the younger adults. "What was the question?"

"I said—" Misty started, loud enough so that the whole café could hear what was going to come out of her mouth.

"Are you sure you saw Ash walk in here?" Tracey interrupted.

"Yeah, I saw him. You can't miss him," Brock said enviously.

"No, it's easy to miss Ash. You just can't ignore the troupe girls surrounding him," Gary corrected testily.

Misty nodded in silent agreement. With his bronze tan complexion, lean muscles, and pale bleach-blond hair (and especially when he wore the blue contacts), Ash had the ideal Sun God form. His "fan club" would easily be doubled if it wasn't for the fact that he rarely smiled now, for many girls found if very hard to be the subject of his grim stares.

Judy returned with their drinks as they sat in silence, smiling warmly. "Have you come to see Miriam Montgomery?" she asked as she set the coffee cups down in front of Tracey and Gary.

"Who?" Gary asked.

"Miriam Montgomery, an entertainer from Cornflower Strait. She's touring with this group, can't remember their name, and we're incredibly lucky sh—they decided to stop here. The Indigo League _actually_ vouches for them, and you know how rare that is." Judy almost spilled Brock's tea as she set it down because she was so excited. Her eyes noticed their blank and less than enthused looks. "They've actually broken a few trends over there with the use of her Pokémon, too! He's so cute! They're all really great, you'll see, really talented. They do all these parodies and copies of songs . . ." Still rambling on, Judy turned around and started to walk to the counter.

"Ash probably came to watch her," Tracey suggested.

"Or he decided to bypass the girls by cutting through here," Misty countered, looking around for the blond locks but not seeing them.

Gary picked up his cup and took a gulp. "Why are we even here? Shadowing Ash is not how I planned spending my day, or week, or month." He rolled his eyes in self-pity.

"We never asked you to," Misty countered, harsher than she meant, but Gary was always complaining. Of course, Misty had wondered the same thing on more than one occasion. Why bother? Finally she settled that it was because of the change she saw in him, the change from the twelve-year-old boy to . . . to Shan. Right now, to her, Ash wasn't Ash. He _was_ just Shan, a stranger.

Looking around the table, Misty saw that the others had similar thoughts running through their heads, even though they were just as likely to admit it aloud as she was. Until they found out what had happened to him, they would continue to try and piece it together from what they saw. After several tries, they found they couldn't subtlety talk it out of him. His lips were as tight as a Cloyster's. And he wasn't going to just open up to them if they dropped him in a tub of hot water either.

"Hallo, Pallet Town!" cooed a voice suddenly from a platform. Misty turned her head to see a wild white-haired, green-eyed, thin woman wearing black bell-bottoms and a pink mid-drift with long, puffy sleeves up on stage. "Well, I got to kill some time so the musicians can set up, the slow pokes—"

"Get over here and help, Miriam!" one of them laughed. The audience laughed at the expression the woman made.

"Ah, no. I'll break a nail or somethin', David." She smiled at the audience. "Anyway, we're glad to be here. Case ya don't know, we're—"

"Chuka!"

Miriam turned her head quickly at the Pikachu that suddenly leaped from behind the curtain, eyes wide, then smiled, as did her hair.

"There's a Ninetales on her head!" Gary exclaimed as the deep-red eyes opened and yawned down at Pikachu, complaining, "Nine!"

"A _miniature_ Ninetales!" Brock corrected, looking at it with wide eyes. "Do you know how rare those are?"

 _You're going to tell us, aren't you, Tracey?_ Misty thought in the back of her mind, watching as Miriam removed the Ninetales, which was about the size of as it's unevolved form Vulpix. It might have even been smaller. Tracey or Brock would know.

"Out one in approximately ten million Ninetales is miniature," Tracey informed them, like they were actually interested in Brock's rhetorical question.

Ninetales leaped down from her arms to dance playfully around Pikachu. Miriam made a cute face at the pair, kneeling down to pet the electric mouse, while the other musicians chuckled to themselves. "Why if it isn't lil' Rodent!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "How ya doin'?"

Pikachu looked at her indignant for the title, but smiled evilly. "Pikachu pika, Chuka!"

It was like Miriam had totally forgotten about the audience. "And where is yar annoyin' shrimp sidekick, hmm? We could use an extra hand, ya know." Her eyes whirled over the room, but were disappointed. "Not here? Well, I'll see him later. Ya just stick around."

"Pikachu!" Pikachu disappeared from the stage, then leaped onto the table right in front of Tracey.

"You know," Gary said lazily, "I should be surprised, but I'm not."

"You know her, Pikachu?" Misty asked.

"Can you get us to know her?" Brock corrected instantly, looking at the hourglass figure Miriam had.

Pikachu rolled her eyes. "Chu pika. Chuka pikachu," she said, bringing her finger up to her lips.

Miriam looked vaguely at the audience as the musicians in the side finished organizing. A few moved to the front, and a smile played upon Miriam's face. "Well, I suppose we should get started, hmm?"

The last note died on the saxophone, and the audience instantly started clapping. Smiling as her lips left the mouthpiece, Miriam bowed with the dancers on the stage. The Ninetales did a back flip and managed to, somehow or another, end in a spectacular bow.

"That Ninetales is _amazing!_ " Tracey breathed, unsure as to whether or not they should leave. "It must be really well-trained. Did you see those flips?" He looked at the sketches he had made on his napkin. "Amazing."

"My Ninetales could do that," Gary sulked.

"I wonder if she'd be interested in breeding," Brock sighed, eyes dreamy.

Misty narrowed her eyes at her friend, unsure as on how to take the last statement. Feeling generous, she decided to let it slide. "I bet—"

"Hey! Rodent!" Miriam called, stepping down from the stage, still holding her saxophone. The tiny Ninetales sat on her shoulders like a shawl.

"Pi, Chuka!" Pikachu responded, bolts good-naturedly escaping her cheeks.

The tall woman clicked her tongue and shifted her eyebrows. "Whatever." Miriam looked at the small table. "How are ya all doin'?"

Wm-ahhh, was all Brock managed to get out.

"Your Ninetales is remarkable, Ms. Montgomery," Tracey said enthusiastically.

She rolled her eyes. "Nothin' about my performance?" She sniffed. "All comments for one fox, and none for the other . . . ones," she added hastily.

"And it's always ya they talk 'bout!" She looked accusingly at the Pokémon, poking his nose. "No fair. We do use other Pokémon, too."

"Niine!" the fox Pokémon laughed, batting away the finger and hopped on the table, as if in an effort to say that he was truly splendid and beautiful— _but don't touch_! He snapped at Tracey, who had made an effort to pet him. Miriam didn't reprimand the fox, seemingly ignoring his behavior.

"You know Pikachu, Ms. Montgomery?" Misty asked as the woman sat down on a backward chair, legs straddling on either side.

"Call me Miriam," she pleaded lightly, then nodded. "Oh yeah. We go back a long time, don't we, Rodent?" Miriam petted Pikachu's ears lovingly.

The four locked eyes knowingly. "You'd know As—Shan then, right?" Tracey asked.

Miriam looked critically at them. "I haven't heard that name for some time, ya know?" She shook her head sadly. "Too honest to be a thief. And I _tried_ to teach him the trade. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Terrible. My only great failure!"

"Chuka," Pikachu said lowly.

She shrugged. "I suppose maybe it was for the best." Miriam's eyes danced over the friends. "Ya know him, I suppose?" They nodded dutifully.

"Well, I suppose I'm obligated to say howdy-do to the idiot since I'm in town, _considerin'_ he did give us a spot of help. Ya know where he is?"

Gary made a feeble laugh. "We figured he was in here. Been following him all day, or been following the girls that have been following him anyway." He shrugged.

Miriam looked slightly interested at that statement. "Ah, no worries. Rodent here can lead us, hmm?" Pikachu shook her head in a no gesture. "What? Why not?"

She sighed wearily. "Pikachu chu pika pi pikachu pikach—"

"Hey, I don't understand Rodent, remember?" Miriam interrupted with a smile. "So unless Timmy actually fell down that well, we've got a problem. So, if ya can't lead us, then . . ." She snapped her fingers, thinking of a plan. "Ya just go to Blondie and we'll conveniently follow. Ya'll, of course, try to lose us, but not that hard or mucky or whatever. I'm wearin' my good boots. Pyro hadn't chewed these ones up." She looked at the fox, which seemed to be smirking. "Yet."

Pikachu thought it over for a moment, then smiled. "Pika, Chuka!"

"Then Hi-Ho, lil' mouse. Left, right, left right!" Miriam laughed, walking towards the door and grabbing a coat that was on the hook. "Yo, John! Be back later, k!"

Someone from the stage made a noise, which the group could only assume to be an affirmation. Miriam smiled, then looked at the Pokémon. "I _said_ hi-ho! Come on, get hi-hoing! And _yes,_ that does include _you_ ," she drawled to the fox.

Pikachu rolled her eyes, but started off in a very military-type walk. "Pi, chu, pi, chu!"

The fox followed lazily. "Nine, tale, nine, tale."

The trio started to march uniformly as they wanted out the door as the four friends stood up, each of them tossing down a few dollars to pay for the tab.

"Cra . . Z. . . . Cra . . .Z," Gary muttered

Brock shot him a hard look. "No. Beau . . . ti . . . ful!" He clicked his heels together then jogged up to catch up with Miriam.

"Some things will _never_ change," Misty said, trying not to smile.

"Shh," Miriam smiled at Misty, Tracey, and Gary caught up. Cautiously she pointed up into a near-bare tree they were next to. "Right . . . there."

Tracey saw Ash first, as he was a Watcher. (Brock could have seen him as well, had he not been staring at Miriam.) "He looks asleep," he said, although unsure. Misty tried to follow his gaze high up into the tree, almost at the top, and saw what she figured was probably Ash's leg in dark blue jeans.

"Probably exhausted from avoiding those girls," Gary smiled.

"Pikapi!" Pikachu called, scurrying up the tree.

"Yo, Shorty!" Miriam yelled, trying to jump up to a branch and climb up. "I found ya so ya got to talk to me!"

Some of the few leaves moved from above, a few even falling, and Misty saw a flash of yellow. "Hey, Miriam," Ash's tired voice called down.

"How ya doing?"

Miriam let go of the branch she had grasped and looked up into the tree. "Same old, same old. How 'bout ya?"

"Been better, been worse, I suppose. I see Pyro is still as tiny as his brain."

The singer chuckled, looking at the indignant fox. "Or at least yars. Ya goin' come down? Cuz ya'd better, or Pyro'll torch the tree. And ya know I'd have him do it! And he'd be willin' too! I won't be bothered too much, either. It's cold." She shivered slightly, blowing on her hands to warm them up. "Ya know how much I hate Winter."

There was a chuckle from above. "Down in a minute."

 _Or less_ , Misty mused as he dropped down a second later, wearing a white sleeveless T instead of his typical long-sleeved black shirt. He was probably going to catch pneumonia in the chilly November air. She was actually surprised that Ash _did_ look tired, his bangs hanging limply over his dull brown eyes.

"Ya look great," Miriam smiled as she gave him a small hug, not sounding a bit like she was lying.

He made a crooked smile raising an eyebrow, which really did surprise Misty, as he returned the hug. It seemed almost natural.

"Nice to see ya again, Miriam," he said, then tossed his head at the small instrument as she backed away. "Didn't figure you'd still play, Ms. Diva."

"Shut up, Blondie," she retorted, although there was a pleased smile on her face from the title. She leaned against the tree, fingers dancing over the keys, making little _poppity-pop_ sounds. "Ya know, I never figured ya'd actually come back. Thought it was all talk." Her green eyes softened. "I'm sorry for what happened with Shamin though."

Ash turned away slightly. "Me too, but c'est la vie."

"Bull, for whatever that means anyway. When'd it happen? Ya took off so fast after the Indigo, and we were swarmed at stage so much I never got get away so we could talk. Albeit, it probably was my fault." Ash shrugged a shoulder. "So when'd it happen?"

He seemed to be interested in looking up at the sky and was blinking his eyes rapidly, like a dust waif had gotten stuck in them.

"Constellation League, just before my last round."

Miriam looked at Pikachu, who had bowed her head, not meeting any one person's gaze. "She was like my lil' sis that I never had. And it wasn't yar fault, ya know. If I know Shamin, ya couldn't have changed her mind no matter what."

Ash snapped his head down to look at her hard. "I never said it was," he said sharply in a tone that made the others almost take a step back. "And I never will, not again. We made the choice as a team. I went through that pit of despair once, and I don't plan on going back. Not now anyway." He made a tight fist. "I _tried_ , Miriam. And had I known . . . So don't you dare place any of the blame on me. Don't you dare." His eyes flashed.

She tightened her face, showing in a small way that she _did_ blame Ash, but was polite (or smart) enough not to say it aloud. "I _still_ don't know how it happened," she said quietly.

Ash looked at her vehemently. "Is there a reason you came to see me, Miriam, because I'd rather get off this subject."

"Ya know, I miss the boy I hung around with," Miriam snapped. _Now she knows how we all feel_ , Misty thought. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected Ash closer. "Ya been usin' something?"

Ash's face turned red with anger, and his voice was tight when he spoke. "No, I haven't, Miriam. Thank you for asking."

"Hey, no need to get snippy with me! I'm just concerned!"

"I didn't ask you for concern, did I?"

"Ooh, the _big boy_ don't need no mother hen fussin' over him, huh?" she sneered. "Get off the frinkin' high horse!"

"Why don't you!"

They locked eyes, each raging with fire.

"Nine," Ninetales snarled.

"Pika."

They both looked down at the two Pokémon, whose eyes were pleading silently. Well, actually Pikachu was pleading. The Ninetales looked ready to fight on Miriam's behalf.

Miriam waved a dismissive hand, all malice gone. "In any case, I'm sorry for what happened. I know ya two were good friends, good friends," she repeated. Again Ash looked away. "Ya know that a few days would've—"

"I know," Ash said tightly. He didn't let go of the fight as easily as Miriam did.

She shook her head. "Ya said you were droppin' Indigo in yar last letter. So now what are ya goin' to do?" she asked after a moment, fingering the saxophone keys again.

"Don't know."

"Don't know, or won't say?"

"Take your pick," he snapped.

"Don't get smart with me." She frowned. "I mean, ya really like battlin' and stuff, can't see why. And don't ya dare answer that one," she said, waving her finger at Ash. "I mean, it sounded like ya were droppin' Pokémon all together. Never did get around to competing in that World Division thingy." She looked at him shrewdly. "Are ya dropping?"

The others, even Pikachu, blinked and looked at Ash in shock. He didn't say anything in his defense, and he didn't avert his gaze from Miriam's intense stare. She tilted her head.

"It's not because of Shamin, is it?"

His voice was calm. "Why should she influence my decision, especially now?"

Miriam made a small, exasperated sigh. "Do ya still play?" she asked, changing the subject again.

"Do Gyarados swim in the sea?"

"And go _chompity chomp_ on poor, drowning sailors," Miriam finished sarcastically, tossing her hair aside, then wrapped an arm around Ash's shoulders. She looked suddenly disappointed at the lack of difference in their heights, at the greatest her only having two inches on him. Miriam was about as tall as Brock. "Damn, when did ya grow? Ya used to be so short I could use ya as a footstool. Hmm, did in fact." Ash said nothing, waiting for her to finish whatever she had started. "Anyway, we'll be in town for a few. Maybe we can jam. Ya can come up; the guys wouldn't mind, and if they do, Pyro'll take care of it. Ya know he will, and it'll be like old times."

"Maybe," he agreed quietly. "But not quite."

Miriam nodded her head in quiet agreement as she removed her arm. Misty seemed to think that Miriam planned to put Ash into a headlock and get him to do whatever she had wanted, but then realized that would have been a futile fight. "That means 'not likely', right?"

"It means if I decide to," Ash corrected. Then he held out his hand. "And my wallet, please?" His friend made a face as she slapped the leather into his hand. "Thank you."

"The signs of a great pickpocket, bein' able to sense that," Miriam stated boldly, coming from her pout and stepping away. "Do me a favor and actually consider my offer? Life has to go on, even when Shamin's gone." Her smile wavered a moment, but stayed on her face.

He nodded slightly, then tilted his head to look at her, as if noticing something different. "Is that your coat? It looks a little too frumpy for your tastes. You stole that, didn't you?" His voice was accusing, to say the least.

She smiled evilly, poking his nose. "Did I now?" Then Miriam turned before Ash could even reply and walked away with a "Cheerio," playing what Misty figured where scales on the saxophone. The Ninetales trotted behind her, after slapping Ash with his tails, doing a sort of jig to the beat.

"Pikapi?" Pikachu asked timidly, causing the four friends to look at the outsider.

"Great," Ash sighed, rubbing his nose.

"Who's that, Ketchum?" Gary drawled casually, crossing his arms.

Ash looked at the others distantly. "Haven't you met, or have you been following her all day long too?" Misty thought she saw his lips twitch into a quick smile. He leaned up against the tree, looking down at Pikachu. "I met Miriam on the alleyway of Corral Lane. Or under, I suppose." He scratched his head in thought, the sighed when he decided he wasn't very sure. "Or _somewhere_ around there."

"Is she married?" Brock wondered, vividly remembering that he hadn't seen any rings on her fingers.

"Brock," Misty warned, not interested into getting into a conversation like that.

Ash ignored the question as well. "Why are you following me?"

"We're not following you," Tracey denied rather poorly. "What'd give you that idea?"

He chuckled humorlessly, stretching his bare arms out. Misty saw what she first noticed after seeing him swim with his Water Pokémon: the mesh of pale crisscrossing scars. One, the longest, stretched from the top of his hand and to his elbow on his right arm. There were wider scars on that one, like large dots, four on top lined right on the long scar, and one on the underside of his arm. It was similar to when you dig your nails in your forearm, except that these scars were a lot bigger. On his left shoulder, almost at his collarbone, there was also a peculiarly shaped five-pointed scar, like someone had thrust a stake into him. Misty had also seen a variety of fainter scars on his back, ones so faint that she had to squint to see them. She had finally been bold enough to ask how he got them, but Ash had merely grunted something inaudible and told her to mind her own business.

She understood why he usually wore long-sleeved shirts, especially around his mom.

When she moved her eyes, Misty saw that Ash had seen her staring at the scars again. "What gives me that idea, Tracey, is the fact that I do have eyes," he said levelly, seemingly unconsciously running a hand over his long scar. "I can see the looks you four give me. And I do know the looks." He paused momentarily, then added, "Very well, in fact. So why are you following me?"

The four looked at each other, nodding slightly.

"It's like this, Ketchum," Gary started. "We all enjoy a good mystery, especially in Pallet, since there's nothing else to amuse us since the theater is closed. It's just that you're the best we can come up with."

Ash rolled his eyes slightly.

"There is no mystery about me," he said after a moment of quiet reflection.

"I can think of a few," Brock countered. "Like how do you know Miriam? And who is Shamin?"

"How'd you get those scars?" Tracey added. Ash instantly stopped running his hand over his arm.

"What about those Leagues?" Gary put in. "And are you actually dropping Pokémon?"

"And why the hell did you ever run away?" Misty fumed, almost shouting.

Everyone looked surprised at Misty. Ash even blinked.

Gary cleared his throat first. "Well, Ketchum? You can pick any of those to start with."

"And while you're at it, tell us about Miriam," Brock sighed.

"Or what happened to you during those five years?" Misty added, her anger raging—anger she wasn't even aware she had, anger from the fact that Ash had never said anything to them yet, and they were _supposed_ to be his friends.

"Pikapi," Pikachu murmured, climbing up the tree so she could rest on his shoulder. Ash's eyes were focused on them, or at an area past of them.

"Look, Ash, if you tell us—" Tracey started, setting a hand on the eighteen-year-old's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Ash hissed through clenched teeth. "Please, just don't, Tracey."

"Okay, Ash, okay," he said, backing away. "So what are you going to do?"

Misty was prepared for Ash to be stubborn and not say anything, to turn and walk away. She was not prepared for him to slide down the trunk and sit heavily on the ground, eyes almost closed. It was then that they could all see how incredibly tired Ash was. They had chosen well in their timing.

Eyes closed, Ash chuckled grimly. It almost seemed like he would be crying. "What the hell happened to me?" he repeated. He looked up at them, raising his eyebrows and tilting his lips up to a corner of his face in an expression of less-than-amused humor. "People change. We deal with it."

 _Damn!_ they all thought at the same time. Obviously Ash wasn't going to open up like they had figured.

"Well, most people don't do one-eighties on their personalities," Brock countered.

"Yes, they do. It's called growing up."

Misty stomped her foot childishly. "Why won't you tell us? Aren't we your friends?"

Ash's head snapped up sharply, and Pikachu cried, "PIKACHU!" The mouse started to nuzzle her master, who was trembling with a seething anger. "Chu, Pikapi, chu pikachu," she murmured. He looked at her momentarily, and she smiled up at him hopefully. It gave neither any comfort, and Pikachu could see that his past demon was returning again, one that he never actually got around to beating into submission, because he couldn't. Ash looked back towards the others and studied them intently.

"Is this a test?" Ash finally got out, jaw firm. Pikachu looked at her trainer fearfully.

Misty nodded her head. "Yeah, it is. Are we, or aren't we?"

"Well then, we'll have to find out, won't we?" Ash said coldly, standing up.

"Pikapi!" Pikachu cried, pulling on his leg.

"And how do you propose?" Misty challenged, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

Ash made a cruel smile, flexing a fist. "Do _you_ trust me with your life?"

Her eyes looked over him briefly. "Y-yea, I do. Why?"

"PIKAPI!" Pikachu lamented.

"Let's test this faith," Ash suggested, turning on his heel to go over to a side tree. Their eyes followed to see Ash's backpack hanging on a low branch. Just as he reached in, Pikachu leaped onto the branch.

"Pi, pika chu pikachu, Pikapi!" she gasped.

"Don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen," he replied levelly, withdrawing something from his backpack. Then he turned and walked back, holding something in a blue-violet silk cloth. "I . . . won this," he started in a bitter whisper, slowly removing the silk away. Their eyes were focused like sunbeams through a magnified lens, and then they gasped seeing the silver blade reflecting their stares back at them.

Ash tossed the cloth into the air, brought the knife down, causing it to slice cleaning though the fabric. "I keep it very sharp. It's a throwing knife." His eyes looked at Misty again. "I'll repeat myself. Misty, _do_ you trust me with your life?"

Misty found all she could do was look at the metal in his hand. Her tongue refused to move.

"You're crazy, Ash!" Brock yelled.

"You could kill her!" Tracey exclaimed.

Ash looked at them, plainly saying that that was the idea. "I know."

"You can't do that!" Gary snapped.

Again he looked at Misty, whole still couldn't make any noise. "Well, Misty? True friends trust each other. I'd trust you if you decided to throw it at me. You can do it if you want." He gripped her wrist and placed the knife in her hand.

It was strangely warm, like it was alive. Misty couldn't hear the arguments the men were making, attention focused on the metal. There were no gems embedded in it, but an intricate gold pattern of connected tiny dots. Misty twisted her wrist so the sunlight would dance on the hilt. It was perfectly balanced, but Misty doubted if she could throw it accurately.

"Well, Misty?" Ash's quiet voice echoed through her reverie. Her eyes blinked, and she saw herself looking into Ash's brown eyes, which mirrored her own. In essence, she was looking right into her own eyes. "Allow me to prove my trust to you, and you can do the same for me." Misty watched dumbly as Ash moved back against a thick tree almost thirty feet away. "Throw it."

She finally found her voice. "No! I'd kill you!" she screeched, almost dropping the knife.

He lowered his head to look at her from under his bangs and eyebrows. A hunted look danced against them. "This is an act of trust. No one will die." He sounded so sure.

"Ash, all those years alone did something to your head," Gary swore, grabbing the knife away from Misty's trembling hand. She still held her gaze and hand there, transfixed at the position the knife had been in. "You're suicidal."

Ash moved away from the tree slowly. "Am I?" He seemed actually interested in the answer. His eyes were still sparkling dangerously, as if a lamp was shining on the other side.

The look put Gary off for a moment, but the words found themselves quick enough. "And you need help!" Gary continued, holding the knife out towards Ash's chest. Then he saw what he was doing and quickly brought the knife back.

"That I won't disagree on. We all need help," Ash agreed quietly, then held out his hand. "My knife, please. I won't kill anyone with it, either." His eyes lightened at the statement for a moment.

Reluctantly, Gary handed over the knife slowly, ready to draw it back at a moment's notice. "You'd better not, Ketchum."

Ash held the knife, not looking at his friends' worried faces. "So you _don't_ trust me," he said levelly, bringing the challenge back up. He smiled crookedly, then with a lightening quick motion turned quickly and then the knife fly. It ended up center in the tree, pinning a leaf that had been falling against the bark. The knife was still quivering when he walked up and pulled it out.

"I don't trust me either." He looked back at them. "But I certainly won't miss." With that, he picked up his bag from the branch a started to leave their sight.

Pikachu let out a small sigh. "Pikapi," she cooed, running after him.

The four watched the sliced leaf lay on the ground.

"Hello," Mrs. Ketchum smiled brightly at the group, picking up a flowerpot from the ground. The garden wasn't as beautiful as it normally was, mostly because of the season, but also because Mrs. Ketchum hadn't been around to take care of it during the last few months of summer, and none of them were that great of gardeners. Around her head four of Ash's Hummers danced and twirled, their wings a blur. In the late afternoon, the sun sparkled off their feathers, making them seem like flying gems even in the bare landscape.

"Hello, Mrs. Ketchum," they all replied dutifully as more Hummers escaped the flowers and came over to inspect them. They seemed to be multiplying, for Ash had only had five when he arrived.

Mr. Mime eagerly took the flowerpot. "Thank you, Mimey. How is everything?" she asked absently, holding up a hand so a Hummer could land on it.

They lied. "Fine."

"That's good. If you're hungry, supper is almost ready."

"PIKACHU!" Pikachu yelled, jumping up onto the handrail by the steps. When she saw the four, she waved happily, then scampered back inside.

"It must be done," Mrs. Ketchum said happily as the Hummer flew off. "Come on, Mimey. You can come too," she added as an afterthought, looking at the four and pulling off her gloves.

"Is Ash here, Mrs. Ketchum?" Tracey asked as they made their way into the house, barely missing not stepping on the sleeping Ragman, for now it was too cold for it to sleep outside. (Ash actually scoffed at that excuse when he had seen it sleeping in the house that first morning, and the dirty Pokémon had avoided meeting its Trainer's gaze until . . . well, it still avoided Ash's amused gaze.) They had spent most of the last few hours trying to find him again, somewhat worried about him after the leaf incident and leaving him with any sharp objects.

Mrs. Ketchum's smile widened as she opened the oven. "Yes. He's in his room taking a nap." She said "nap" in a way that made the listener think that only little kids took them, and that her son was, in fact, a little boy. Since Ash had returned, Mrs. Ketchum had taken to mothering him a bit, having a handkerchief every time he sneezed and making sure both of his socks matched, that sort of thing. Misty was silently praying that the day never came when Ash would tell her to shut up and leave him alone.

"Do you want one of us to go wake him up?" Brock asked as he started to go towards the cupboards. Mr. Mime looked at him dangerously, just daring him to continue. The breeder took the hint and sat down, figuring that there was always breakfast.

She looked thoughtful. "He did look very tired, and he was cranky." Misty smiled at the word choice.

"How can you tell?" Gary muttered, watching as the plate was set down in front of him.

She took the question seriously as she tested the meal. "Oh, he just looked very upset about something. He wouldn't say why or about what though, and I told him he needed to take a nap." Mrs. Ketchum turned her view another way. "But he's been sleeping for the past few hours, so he's probably okay. And he needs to eat something. Would any of you mind?"

They didn't answer for a moment, wondering if Ash slept with a knife or gun under his pillow.

"Pika!" Pikachu said, scurrying out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Misty sighed with relief, then looked around the kitchen. It was cozy and very plain, a comfortable air around it. She always loved coming to the Ketchum residence, at least Mrs. Ketchum's. It was like Mrs. Ketchum's aura melted into the house—cheery, warm, maternal, no sense of malice in it.

Her eyes drifted over to look into the living room, where pictures lines the wall, proudly displaying the child of the house. There were pictures of the boy she remembered, but then there were pictures Ash had given his mother, pictures of him while he was gone. They were of him, for the most part, although some had who Misty recognized as Miriam (she hadn't changed that much) picking on him, having him in a headlock or such. There was also another girl, green-haired and blue-eyed, and Misty figured it was—what was her name again? Shamin by what Miriam had said. She looked thin and pale, but Misty noticed that she grew to be more popular in the pictures as Ash aged, and a lot closer to him too.

Misty was surprised at the photos. Mrs. Ketchum said Ash had kept them in a carefully labeled album, and that he knew his mom would like to see them when he came home. He must have had to develop like a hundred rolls. Forethought and consideration, something Ash had seemingly perfected over the years.

 _Among other things_ , Misty added sadly. Suspicion, neutrality, mystery, and subdued sense of fear in something, himself maybe.

"Mrs. Ketchum, don't you ever wonder what happened to Ash during those years?" she asked suddenly, causing everyone to jump. _She must_ , Misty thought. _We all do_. When Mrs. Ketchum had returned from Ziganka—the Ketchum family had spent some time there the past few months for some family re-acquaintance time—it didn't look like she had any of her questions answered.

Mrs. Ketchum looked down at her food, moving it around as she thought. Then she looked up, smiling slightly. "Oh, of course I do, but I know Ash'll tell me when he's ready. Li said to just give him some time, but that's easy for him to say. He's used to waiting." Then she blushed. "I hope it's soon."

"Did you ever ask him to tell you?" Tracey asked. The other three saw where this was going. Ash would do almost anything for him mom. If she asked, maybe he would tell them. Maybe?

"No. Li said I shouldn't. Why do you ask?"

"Because they deduced that I would probably tell you if you did," Ash answered in a hard tone, entering the kitchen, now wearing his normal long-sleeved shirt. He has also perfected the art of being absolutely quiet. As he sat down, Ash looked hard at the four guilty members. Pikachu did as well, although not nearly as severe. The mouse seemed torn between her loyalty to her Trainer and her worry about him.

"Well, I don't have to ask," Mrs. Ketchum smiled happily. "You'll tell me someday, won't you sweetie." It wasn't even in the form of a question.

Ash didn't answer, focusing his stare on his "friends". "Supper looks good, Mom." This was from a guy who hadn't even looked at the food yet.

"Thanks, Pumpkin. Your Hummers really are wonderful, you know. The whole town loves them, except about the incident with the balloons." She frowned slightly, remembering the complaints she had received.

"They're not mine," Ash replied quietly, starting to eat. "Not all of them, anyway."

"Whose are they, then?" Gary asked.

Ash didn't respond for a moment, eyes closed. Pikachu bowed her head, not meeting anyone's gaze. "Shamin's." He shook his head, as if trying to remove the name from his brain.

"And who's that?" Brock asked, interested.

It was exceedingly quiet while waiting for Ash's response. Although Ash seemed willing not the answer, the silence seemed to form an oppressive shell around him that forced the response from his lips. "She was . . . just a friend," he finally answered, after almost a minute. "Haven't seen her since the . . ." He stopped, shaking his head.

"Not since the Constellation League?" Tracey inquired, remembering the conversation Miriam and Ash had had earlier in the day.

"Since then," Ash agreed quietly.

Pikachu patted her trainer's arm comfortingly. "Pikapi," she cooed.

"Was she a Trainer?" Misty asked, looking down the hall at the pictures. There was a picture with Shamin hugging Pikachu with Ash wincing over on the side and Miriam and her Ninetales on the other. Misty had to piece together the clues from the picture. It looked like the fox had bitten Ash or something.

He made a half-smile and petted Pikachu. "Sort of. The first Pokémon Shamin caught was . . ." He paused, thinking for a moment.

"Chu! Chupi ka pikachu!" Pikachu responded, a note of disapproval in her voice. "Chu pikachu pika pikachu Chupi Pikachu!"

He chuckled, nodding. "I did say caught, not stole, though," Ash corrected after he thought about it, still down Memory Lane and seemingly unaware that he had an audience. "Was Hula, wasn't it? With Trigger?" Pikachu nodded her agreement after a very long time meditating on the answer.

"She stole Pokémon?" Misty demanded.

"Stole more than that, although not many Pokémon because of my"—he chuckled quietly—"' _grumblegrumbledamn-frickingmubmlegrumble_ morals and such. . .'" Ash trailed off distantly, shoving food up to his mouth. He continued, still unconcerned that he was divulging information.

"Shamin was a pick-pocket, thanks to Miriam. Be careful around her. She could still steal anything from _almost_ anyone." He smirked momentarily. "They were the ones who helped me get into Professor Oak's computers, and then make new Pokédexes." Ash shrugged, although Misty thought he was forcing indifference. "Shamin played, or claimed to play, the guitar. Said she'd been on the streets . . . five years, since her folks split." Again he shrugged, eating. "They were nice, I thought, when I met them after she—"

Ash suddenly stopped talking, like he had nothing more to say on the subject, and indeed like he had never brought it up in the first place.

"Pika, Pikapi?"

He took an almost too deep of a breath, so deep that Misty thought he'd pass out. Then he forced a smile. "Thanks for the meal, Mom. I'm going to go get some air, look at the stars or something. You wanna come, Pikachu?"

"Pi."

"Okay, Ash," Mrs. Ketchum smiled, although it too looked forced. Worry etched her eyes, and not because Ash had barely touched his plate. He nodded at each of them in turn, then walked out of the room. The door outside was opened and shut soon afterwards.

The table was quiet until Brock spoke with finality and certainty.

"She dumped him."

"Ash?" Misty knocked on the door again, biting her bottom lip in slight worry. "Ash?" Still no answer.

Misty looked down the hall to see if anyone was within sight, then slowly opened the door. Sorry, but during her entire stay at the Ketchum residence since Ash had returned, he had _always_ been up at dawn, or earlier. Of course, she wasn't exactly sure about his sleeping schedule when he and his parents had gone back to Ziganka, but Misty assumed it hadn't changed. Now it was almost eleven-thirty. Normally she'd allow someone to have a Sleep-In-Late Day, but something in Ash's manner worried her, telling her that letting him sleep in would be like letting him sleep forever.

"Ash?" she whispered, looking around the dim room. The curtains were drawn, letting in only traces of light. More light would enter when the wind blew the curtains further out into the room, making it seem a bit ominous.

"Pikachu?"

"Hey, Pikachu," Misty smiled, seeing the familiar Pokémon resting on the bed next to the sprawled-out form of Ash. "Umm, you hungry?" she added, suddenly embarrassed at what she was doing.

Pikachu shook her head. "Chu." Then she petted Ash's hair.

"Okay."

Cautiously Misty took a step in and shut the door. Pikachu looked up briefly and smiled. "Chu pika Pikapi," she whispered, continuing to stroke the blond hair.

"I wish I could understand what you say," Misty sighed, leaning against the door. "You'd tell us what happened to Ash, right?"

Pikachu nodded slightly, although she did not look at Misty in the eye. Misty knew Pikachu wouldn't directly disobey Ash, but the Pokémon would try to do everything in her power to protect him from himself, if need be.

Misty looked around the room. She hadn't been in it since Ash moved it, and she found it remarkable at how much it hadn't changed. Yes, it was neater, but the Pokémon toys that had been in there for years were still there, stacked with great care, like they were the most important things in the world. She had thought Ash would have tossed out the toys, as he wasn't a little boy anymore. He had always made such a big deal about being oh-so-grown-up as a kid, especially when she made some comment that implied that he wasn't. Over in the corner—seemingly hidden—her keen eyes spied the delivery box, which Misty knew housed a number of trophies and badges. In a sense, it also surprised her to see them not displayed, but concealed in the plain box. Ash had always been a show-off as a child, but now he was a lot more withdrawn.

Her eyes went over to the man in question. Ash was sleeping on the bed that almost seemed to be too small for him. He was lying on his stomach, and Misty thought that he must have fallen asleep the second his body touched the soft material. He was still in his clothes from yesterday, even his shoes, and he wasn't under a blanket, per say. Sometime during the night, it looked like Pikachu—maybe even Mrs. Ketchum—had covered him up with a spare blanket that was now half off him. One arm was wrapped around a pillow; the other hung limply off the side.

Carefully she walked over, now suddenly curious to see how much Ash had changed physically. Lucky his face was turned towards her, and she knelt down to study it, sending back a wisp of yellow that lay in her way with a soft and gentle hand.

The blond was starting to grow out. At the roots Misty could see the signs of Ash's original black seeping out to reclaim the hair. Aside from the color and length, the hair still had the same properties it had during his youth, if free. The confining ponytail he usually wore it in hid the way it stuck out wildly, heedless of what combs and brushes ever order it to do.

His face was longer and more defined, like his father's, and still very tan. The cheeks were less full of the traces of baby fat Ash still had at twelve. The nose, also a feature of his father's Ash had received, was still there, the pert nose that would accent the bold and stubbornness he had inside him. Some people had those kinds of noses, and Ash was one of them. He had grown into his ears at least, she chuckled. His lips were like his mother's, something more at home in a smile than in a frown he usually wore. On his chin had grown some morning stubble, which he would shave once he woke up.

The eyes were hard to gage since they weren't opened, but Misty thought they were wider than most men's were, giving Ash a sort of feministic accent to his face. They were truly his mother's in color and traits, the power and peace behind them. Right now Misty could see his eyelids moving as he dreamed. Whether the dream was pleasant or otherwise Misty was unsure, for his face gave no indication.

True, he was no drop-dead gorgeous guy, but all and all, a girl would probably consider herself very lucky if she caught his eye.

"Pikachu?"

"Hmm?" Misty asked dimly, looking at the mouse. The mouse looked back, and Misty remembered her supposed reason for coming in here. "Do you think I should wake him up?"

"Pi," Pikachu said after a moment.

"All right. Ash," she called. "Come on Ash, wake up." Ash made a small murmur, wrinkling his face as he started to wake up. "Wake up." She touched his shoulder gently to shake him.

Suddenly her wrist was grabbed tightly by his right hand, Ash's brown eyes wide open and taking a deep intake of breath. Misty bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain, his grasp was so tight. He blinked in surprise, bringing her into focus as he rolled onto his side. "What are you doing?" he whispered. He actually whispered.

"Waking you up. I thought you might be hungry, and it's almost noon." Her eyes darted to her wrist. "Let go, please."

His eyes followed his arm to his hand, seeing the grip he had on her. He released it quickly, pushing himself up. Misty rubbed her wrist, not surprised to see the red marks left by his fingertips. She wouldn't be surprised if it bruised either.

"Sorry," he grunted, pushing himself off the bed.

"It's all right," Misty lied, still kneeling down. "Your hair's growing out."

Ash turned around and looked at her in surprise, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. "How long have you been in here?"

"Not long," she said quickly, getting up. "You didn't hear me when I knocked. Still a heavy sleeper." He made no comment, but yawned slightly and rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm like a five-year-old might do. "So what are you going to do today?"

"My business," Ash replied curtly, looking at her from over his shoulder.

"You know, we _are_ still your friends," she said hotly, upset over his actions. "So why don't you just drop the damn attitude?"

"Attitude," Ash repeated quietly, turning to face her.

"Yeah, attitude. That stupid knife thing."

"I wasn't going to throw it because I knew you wouldn't let me," he snapped. "And if you had, I sure as hell wouldn't have missed. Listen, Misty, my life is my own, and I don't have to share my mistakes or whatever _you_ think they are with you or anyone if I don't want to."

Misty looked at him angrily. "But you should! Dammit, you know how worried everyone was when you took off? You didn't even think of us, did you?" She saw his jaw tighten. "You could at least tell us what happened to you so we can figure out if our worry was in vain or not."

"I thought of you guys a lot." He replied, tone level. "And you should feel grateful that I did. Stopped me from doing a lot of stupid things."

"Didn't stop you from leaving us!" Misty shot back. "That was pretty stupid."

"Not saying it wasn't."

His voice was so calm—damn it, it always was! Couldn't he for once just _yell_?—that Misty's temper seemed to die down. There had to be more to that statement. "Yeah?" she said sarcastically.

"I could have done a lot of dumber things, Misty," he stated, still calm.

Even the sarcasm left her. "Like?"

Ash shrugged, closing his eyes. "Have you ever been so . . . angry, so—" he seemed to be struggling for the right word, but couldn't find it—"so utterly destroyed that you've almost done something you'd regret the rest of your life?" He voice was distant, like he was speaking from across a crowed room.

She hadn't, not that she could remember. "Uh-huh?"

"I was. Once. More that once, probably." He opened his eyes to look at her, and something about them made her step back unconsciously. "But once, had I done it, acted upon that impulse, it would have been murder. Cold-blooded murder. I could have done something _that_ stupid, Misty. My hands were around that guy's neck and squeezing for everything that happened—damn, he wasn't breathing, I gripped his jugular so tightly. I really just wanted to kill him, everything that bastard stood for. But I didn't—couldn't—because I thought of you guys." Ash closed his eyes and brought a hand up to his forehead, covering his eyes like a visor. He was sucking his teeth, and it seemed to Misty that he was forcing the words out.

"Something broke through at the very last second and I saw that guy. I saw _me_ , and words echoed in my head. It was happening just like that Trainer said. To _**me**_. And I saw everybody I ever knew. I knew I couldn't come back here with that, and I wanted to come back at that moment—damn, I did so much I wished I could have just teleported right then and there and just _run_. I wanted to go _Home_ , Misty, however short I'd be welcomed or could manage." He shook his head. "So thank you."

Misty looked at him in a stupor. Ash, commit murder? The words wouldn't come together in her mind to form a realistic fact. "What happened?"

Again Ash shrugged, taking a deep breath and bringing his hand down. "Maybe some day I'll tell you. Maybe. Someday."

"Why can't you tell us now?" Misty pleaded. "Is what happened to you so bad that you did such terrible things that you're ashamed to tell us?"

He blinked at her in surprise. "Not entirely."

"Then why?"

He sighed. "Because, Misty, I don't want to remember all of it. I wouldn't be able to stop remembering."

"You can't just forget," Misty stated, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, the sooner you accept it, the sooner you'll start to be able to remember without being so . . . melodramatic."

Ash blew the bangs out of his eyes. "I've already accepted my life, Misty, but I don't see the point in telling you it."

"That's because you're afraid." It was a wild theory that caused Ash to look away, allowing Misty to know that she was right, in a sense. "You are, aren't you?"

"Never said I wasn't."

"Oh, can the damn smart-ass remarks," she ordered. "What are you afraid of?"

"I told you. Memories. It's hell to lay awake and remember, to sleep and remember." He held his chin. "Relive stupid mistakes, and worry about what's coming."

"What is?"

Ash looked at her. "I don't know," he sighed.

She snorted. "Ash, look, put your blasted pride on the wall. We all want to know what happened to you. Gary's dying to know about all the leagues,"—Ash's eyes darted up in quiet surprise, like he hadn't even noticed—"Brock's probably trying to ask Miriam, Heaven help her, on a date, and Tracey's interested in the Pokémon. And your mom and I are just wondering what happened to you. You've been home over three months and you haven't let any of us—not even your mom—in a crack."

"Pikachu!"

His eyes quickly looked at Pikachu, who was standing alongside Misty. "Regular Benedict Arnold," he muttered, but there was a faint smile on his face.

"Chu," Pikachu corrected. "'Pikachu Ka Kapi.'" Misty sounded like she was quoting something, and Ash, after a moment of confusion, smiled weakly, shaking his head. Misty wished she could understand Pikachu-nese.

In any case, Misty took Pikachu's support as a tip in the scale. "Even Pikachu wants you to tell someone. She's worried about you too." Ash was still quiet, unconvinced. "Look, you either tell us, or I'll never let it drop until you do!"

Ash sighed, closed his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair, thus unintentionally freeing it from the loose ponytail it was in. He was definitely too tired to put up with this crap. He was surprised he put up with it for so long. "This is some master plan, isn't it?" he murmured quietly, leaning his head back. Misty was unsure if he was talking to some unseen deity or to her. She figured it didn't matter in either case.

"Yes, it is."

He was silent, breathing deeply, and it seemed like he had fallen asleep while he stood. Pikachu timidly walked over to him and tapped his leg.

"Pikapi?" Ash didn't respond or act like he had even aware of the Pokémon. " _Pikapi!_ "

Ash opened his eyes and looked down at Pikachu, smiling at her worry. Then he looked at Misty, or past her, cocking his head sideways like he was considering something. His eyes were vacant, and Misty thought somehow different. It was just inkling she had, something she couldn't place her finger on.

"Do you believe in Destiny, Misty?" he asked as he picked up Pikachu.

She looked at him, slightly confused. "You mean do I think that some things, no matter how much one tries to avoid it or doesn't want it, will happen in any case?" Ash shrugged. She grinned. "Does this mean you'll tell the story if I say yes, because you _are_ destined to tell us what happened to you."

He blinked slowly at her. "Thank you for your input, but just so you know, I don't believe in it."

"What do you believe in, then?"

Ash was silent, looking away from her to the stuffed animals and then to the hidden box of trophies. Pikachu looked at him in a worried manner. "It sure as hell ain't that sort of Destiny. That's just admitting defeat for everything you've done in your life, that you didn't do any of it. And I'm not doing that, no matter what."

Misty tilted her head, confused. "Why do you say that?"

Again he looked at her, and he spoke quietly. "Because if I didn't, my entire life wouldn't even be mine. Let them take everything else from me, but I want my life." He closed his eyes and sighed. Then, in a voice so quiet that Misty couldn't hear, he said something else.

"What?" she asked tentatively.

His eyes opened, and they were bright even in the dim room as he looked at his closed window. Within a moment, he was next to the window and holding back the curtain to look at the calm scene. His lips were suddenly tight, and Misty was surprised that he looked upset about something. Pikachu pressed her nose against the glass, scanning as well, but not seeing what Ash had. "Of all the bloody idiots . . . damn."

"What?" she asked, coming up to him and looking as well.

He looked at her after a moment of scanning the area. "Pardon?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he feigned with innocence. Misty looked at him sharply, and he edited his statement. "It's . . . just a feeling. Nothing that concerns you."

"If it concerns you, it concerns all of us," she stated. "Everything."

"Pika!" Pikachu stated, jumping onto the sill and looking at the yard with a dangerous look. She had a pretty good feeling as to what was out there now, and she was just waiting for something to grab her trail and swing her like a lasso.

Ash looked at them, and then made a slow smile at their loyalties. He shook his head, hanging his head, eyes hidden by his bangs as he looked back out the window. "I pray for you, then, and hope to Mew that it never comes time for you to prove your words, Misty."

Gary was lounging on the Ketchum couch, Umbreon resting on his chest. Even if the Pokémon was larger than his unevolved form, it didn't bother Gary that much. "He cracked. 'Bout time too," he muttered, petting the soft fur. He had never gotten around to deciding on which way to evolve, whether it would be fire, water, or electric. Truth be told, he actually hadn't wanted to evolve his Eevee by stone. He had done research, and Pokémon change after they evolve, especially with stones. It was a well-known fact that Vaporean tended to be less attentive, Flareon was too focused, and Jolteon was a bit rebellious. In the end, Gary decided to wait on it. Of course, on the plus side, if Eevee would evolve into an Espeon or an Umbreon, as he had, well, everyone knew Psychic were some of the strongest Pokémon around . . .

This whole month of training went by, most of it wasted on tailing Ash, and the other two months before that weren't much better, sticking around and trying to figure out what was going on. Gary hadn't even gotten up the guts to demand that they do their match, because now Gary knew Ash was very good. The Trainer wasn't afraid of losing, no, not of that. One needed to lose to be a great Trainer. What worried Gary was Ash. Sure, he used the alibi that he wanted to know about the Leagues, but that wasn't it. As a kid, Gary had respected Ash, in the way bullies respect other lesser bullies. But now, after the years had taken their toll on Ash, Gary had to wonder what caused it. Ash had been strong, determined, stubborn, and hothead. If their current roles had been reversed, Ash would have demanded the match that Gary put off, no matter what the odds were against him. Something had caused Ash to become distant, and Gary was silently praying it wasn't Pokémon. Not that he'd ever say it, although by now everyone knew it, Gary was worried about Ash, his friend.

God, never thought he'd think of Ash as that again, had he ever. Gary was unsure on that point.

Gary looked up at the ceiling, dislodging the sudden bombing of memories he deemed unimportant to remember by shifting his brain to another subject. He liked to think about things, about how his opponents battle. That's one thing he always figured made him a better Trainer than Ash. Ash would have walked into a match blindfolded and felt confident for a win. Gary could have done the same thing with the same results. That didn't make a good Trainer. You had to think, to plan, to make a strategy. Apparently Ash had figured this out along the way.

 _Dammit, he had to be a Master—well, a better Trainer— before me!_ Gary thought angrily. _Even being asked to join the Elite. And he turned it down! Idiot!_

Believe it or not, Gary always knew Ash would be a great Trainer, but Gary had always figured he'd always be greater than Ash would. It had slightly irked Gary the way his grandpa had cheered for Ash. Okay, so Professor Oak had cheered for Gary as well, but Professor Oak had also cheered for Ash. And, of course when Ash and Gary battled, Grandpa stood by him, always confident that he would beat Ash, that his grandson was the better Trainer. Still, Grandpa did root for Ash . . .

 _Oh, stop being so childish_ , Gary chided himself. _Maybe I can battle Ash today, after he tells his life story. Hard to believe I'm waiting to hear that! Wonder if he's going to go back to those Leagues. I'll have to ask him. Grandpa says they must be really hard to find, because everyone thinks they're legends. Hidden Leagues, now_ that _sounds like a challenge._

Gary grinned.

Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, allowing Umbreon to rearrange himself on his lap. Gary looked around the room, eyes falling on Mr. Mime as it tried to sweep up Ragman. _A very interesting Pokémon_ , Gary thought. The Ketchum family—at least Ash and Mrs. Ketchum, anyway—seemed to have a remarkable talent with Pokémon.

In the kitchen he could hear Mrs. Ketchum cooking something up. Gary smiled momentarily. He probably gained ten pounds from her cooking. Actually, to him, Mrs. Ketchum was a bit of a mystery. At times it seemed like she couldn't tell a mop from a tree, and then other times nothing would slip her gaze. It was like she was constantly trying to act a part that was set out for her, the part of a dizzy woman, but was actually very smart and capable of handling herself in any situation, if only by feeding the competition into submission. Right now she was making popcorn.

Tracey and Brock were over discussing one of Ash's Hummers. They were trying to figure out what their special talent was, something Ash had slipped on but wouldn't divulge. It was nothing terrible, he assured them, but a very interesting ability that one—or at least he—could live without. The stupid things gave Gary a headache with their _buzz-buzz-buzzing_ , but even he admitted that they were interesting, in a tiny sort of way. Gary wasn't one to get worked up over size, but the little Pokémon seemed only good for a garden. His Pokédex had been useless for information on them, a fact that greatly upset his Grandpa, who taken to studying the "new" species of Pokémon Ash had.

Misty was over in the corner with Pikachu, going over a thick photo album she had stolen from Ash's room. Pikachu was pointing out all the pictures she thought were interesting, and the two were barely into the book because evidently Pikachu found a lot of the pictures interesting. Gary knew it had been taken without permission because of the expression that had briefly crossed Ash's face when he saw her with it. Gary had been expecting Ash to whip it from her hands when she looked up, but instead the blond Trainer merely turned smartly and walked outside. Gary didn't know where he went, not that he actually cared so long as Ash came back.

Gary let his eyes fall towards Misty again. She really had grown up to be beautiful, despite her appearance as a girl. Her orange hair had grown out longer, and if she didn't always wear it in the French braid it would make her look very pretty. Although, Gary conceded, the tendrils that couldn't stay in the woven arrangement did frame her face nicely. Her deep blue eyes were heavily lashed now, and her face had filled out with graceful arcs. True, she probably wouldn't win a Ms. Pokémon award, but Misty'd be a close runner-up. (She'd probably go as Ms. Dragonair. Ever since she'd caught one, it had been her favorite Water Pokémon.)

He closed his eyes a moment, trying to recall his childhood. He never actually got to know Misty—she was two years older than he and Ash were—but it seemed, when he saw them together, that she had a sort of exasperated affection for Ash. Why else would she follow him around for so long? (Gary wasn't 100% clear on their origins.) She'd had to like Ash a bit in some way, although now, if she did like him more than just a friend, she'd have a bit of a problem. Ash didn't even glance twice at a pretty face or body, much to his little unwanted fan club's dismay, although he was certainly gentleman-enough to help them out with problems. They usually ran something like:

"My Persian's stuck in a tree, Mr. Ketchum. Can you get it down?"

"No it's not."

A confused "Yes, it is."

"No, it's sitting right _next_ to the tree."

And lastly the angry, "Persian! I told you to get up that TREE!"

Gary shook his head sadly. He had always hated problems like that as a child with his own fan club. Of course, one problem Ash didn't have that Gary'd had was paying for everything, since Ash's girls followed him around without his consent. They had tried to get him to boot the bill once, as in an effect to have him talk to them, except they timed it wrong and Ash had already slipped out the door. What was worse—or delightfully funny to Gary, who had been watching the whole thing—was that none of them had money with them. Unfortunately, Brock had spoiled it by seizing the moment to bail them all out, making each and every agree to a date of some sorts.

It seemed almost staged the way Mrs. Ketchum came from the kitchen at the exact second Ash walked though the door. Both were holding something. In Mrs. Ketchum's case, it was a heaping bowl of popcorn. For Ash, it was a tiny mass of black fur that was buried in his arms. The four other young adults blinked at Ash's appearance: tiny branches and leaves embedded in his hair, dirt on his hands and face.

No one spoke for a moment.

"Anyone want some popcorn?" Mrs. Ketchum smiled.

"I'll take some, Mrs. Ketchum," Brock said.

"Whatcha got there, Ketchum?" Gary drawled, nodding his head at the fur ball as Ash sat down. He didn't bother asking about the other's appearance.

He made a small purring noise in the back of his throat before answering Gary's question, petting the ball. Suddenly a pair of emerald-green eyes appeared from the mass of black. Slowly the mass of darkness started to shift and stretch, and everyone could see that it was a tiny Pokémon, only six inches long.

"This is GipSi," Ash said in a quiet tone, still petting the exceeding furry creature, which had a mane of black fur atop her head and a stripe that went from the top of her head to the tip of her tail. A hoop earring glistened off on tiny ear. "I thought that maybe she could help."

"It's cute," Misty cooed, leaning over the book to look at it.

Brock was peering at it. "I've never actually seen one." GipSi yawned towards him, but tilted her head to allow Ash to scratch her neck. "They've just been discovered." Ash's eyes shifted up to look at Brock quizzically, but he didn't counter the statement.

"They're not native here," Tracey informed them. "It's too warm." Ash nodded off-handedly.

Pikachu leaped up into Ash's lap to sit next to the tiny creature and they started to chat.

"So what does it do?" Gary asked suspiciously, having never heard of the species himself.

"GipSie's are notorious thieves," Tracey recited, sounding like he was reading from a book. "They are those who believe that they have the power to show someone the future, but there is no hard evidence to back up these claims. All of the incidents have been proven that it was a Trainer."

Ash cleared his throat, interrupting Tracey's ditty. "GipSies _can_ allow others to see what really happened, which could make them very valuable in police investigations, except they like bright, shiny objects. And it takes _a lot_ of constant, patient training with signals." He made a quick smile, then motioned for GipSi to get off his lap. The tiny leaped onto to the floor, and Ash held his hand over it. GipSi stood on her hind legs, nose bobbing. "They are very playful though, at least at night. You don't want to sleep under a tree full of them, or even one of them, trust me on this. And they're very curious and easily distracted no matter how well trained. Probably suicidal to use in a Pokémon battle." He snapped his fingers, and GipSi did a backward flip.

"Most say they're not worth training," he finished, although it was clear he didn't agree. He clicked his tongue, which caused GipSi to suddenly disappear. Everyone sat up straighter, looking around wildly for her.

"Gip!" she said triumphantly, emerging from Ash's hair with her cheeks full of something. In her hands she had something white, and it immediately disappeared into her mouth as well.

"They, of course, don't see a GipSi's full potential," Ash smiled, tossing a few popcorn puffs into his mouth. Nearly everyone blinked, for he was nowhere near the popcorn. "Masters"—the GipSi's head snapped up, insulted—" _or_ Mistresses, as the case may be, of Illusion. And, this one, a thief's best friend. She's been trained in a twisted sort of way in larceny, thanks to the Miriam and Company." Ash made a sad smile, tossing up another puff. GipSi caught it before it started down. "They're quick learners in that area. A little too quick at times."

"Wow," Gary muttered, scratching Umbreon's ear.

"So what are you going to do with her?" Brock asked.

It seemed like Ash had forgotten about the reason why he brought GipSi here. It was a trait he had not lost totally from childhood, Gary thought. If he found something interesting, Ash's inhibitions usually lessened and his tongue moved much more freely. That is until he remembered what he was talking about. Ash stopped smiling and carefully removed GipSi from his head.

"Pikachu, Pikapi," Pikachu said sternly.

He took a deep breath, then let out three piercing notes. Instantly GipSi arched her tail and whipped around, sending a small orb to fly free into the middle of the room. It hovered in the air until GipSi turned and held out her small paws, causing the small marble-sized object to drift closer. Then she looked up, as if waiting for her next command.

"GipSies can allow a sort of image to project around them of whatever they want," Ash sighed, eyes closed, explaining what was going on. "I know I can't explain everything, so I won't try. This is just an illusion, like you'll be watching a movie or so. You get a nice 3rd person perspective. Try not to do anything stupid."

Gary snorted, wondering what kind of stupidity someone could do. Then again, this was Ash who was talking.

"Remarkable," Tracey breathed, quickly sketching the scene on the notepad Mrs. Ketchum kept for jotting down phone numbers or other such messages.

Ash opened his eyes to look at each of them in turn, seeing if they were ready. There wasn't a trace of a smile on his lips, and his eyes were dull. And then he let out one more piercing note.

The result was instantaneous. GipSi's eyes started to glow a shining green, the orb in front of her glowing a milky sheen. The lights that lit the room, even those that came from the window, seemed to be shut out. The milky white light started to spread, growing in size. Gary's eyes were wide as it started to envelop him. He couldn't see his hands, or Umbreon! It was like they were disappearing! He tried to talk, to tell Umbreon to stop it, but his voice had evaporated. He couldn't hear anything, except his own heart beating, and even that disappeared.

Everything was white. The Ketchum living room was nonexistent. Suddenly words could be heard.

"Stop them! THIEF! Police!"

"DIVE!"

"Get away from him, Charizard. You cannot protect him here and now."

A cheery laugh. "Welcome to the Tunnels, Blondie!"

Panic etched the next voice. "Don't let go!"

"You stole that!"

"Whatcha writin'?"

"There he is!"

"What's going on!"

"Ash, didn't you know? You don't _pause_ or _stop_ a battle here. It's still going on."

"It's Team Rocket."

"Get it away!"

A blubbly giggle.

And then silence again. The voices echoed in his brain. Through the whiteness, a set a green eyes could be seen— GipSi's. They were enormous, and Gary felt like they were looking right at him. A soft voice was spoken, but not spoken aloud, similar to like a Psychic Pokémon would use. It was like a very rapid chant, although not a very good one in Gary's opinion. In fact, he thought that it was really, _really_ bad, with a lot of missing words.

 _Sights you I 'queath._

 _Soulies mingle as one_

 _Knowledge 'n' memory shared._

 _Blend inta one,_

 _Truth to, Lies to_

 _Of Death, f Life_

 _Together._

Then there was a pause.

 _I really have ta tink up new chant, don'tcha tink? Can I ave more poppy corn?_

 _This not work? Why not?_

 _Oh . . . yes. Me silly._

 _ **Conjoin.**_

The eyes shut . . . . .. and the room fell into a Dream . . . . . . or a Nightmare.

 _ **POKÉDEX**_

Hummer—the Bird Pokémon:

This tiny flying Pokémon originates from the Avian Range, and is very quick and agile. Hummer has a needle-like beak and comes in a variety of colors. They are a favorite of gardeners, for they drink the nectar and spread pollen. Although extremely tiny, this Pokémon uses attacks like Dive Bomb and Noise Level to attack its opponents. [return]

Ragman—the Hobo Pokémon:

Found usually in the alleyways of the largest cities, this nomadic Pokémon is able to blend in against any background. A hood covers its face, so no one actually knows what this Pokémon's face looks like. When afraid, this Pokémon can released a strong stench, but it usually smells fine. They pick up a variety of odd and ends that most people throw away, and will not part with their "treasures" without a fight. [return]

GipSi—the Squirrel Pokémon:

An exceedingly rare and shy Pokémon, GipSi is a creature with unusual talents. Hidden within the curl of its tail is a small round crystal that GipSi uses in its most powerful attacks. By simply wishing, GipSi can allow a trainer or another Pokémon a glimpse of their Future or Past. If frightened, the events shown can be the most dreadful. No one is actually sure if the future events shown are true, but most believe they are. They are very difficult to train, for they respond to tones and actions better than to a command and are easily distracted. Due to this fact, a GipSi's true list of attacks is greatly unknown, even to the Pokémon themselves. GipSi is common to the Pooka Valley and Forests, and is a nocturnal Pokémon by nature. [return]


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two: The Urge

The whole house was in darkness, except one room.

Ash bit the eraser at the end of his pencil self-consciously, trying to think clearly during the middle of the night. He looked at his list again, and then finally wrote down "To be a Pokémon Master". It was a biggie in that column, so he put a star next to it, a really big star.

"Pikachu?" Pikachu asked, looking down at the paper as she munched on the apple he had given her.

He tapped his pencil rapidly, rereading his list. A part of him told him that this was crazy, and he agreed with it.

"I still want to, Pikachu," he sighed. "I mean, I know where Dad's coming from now, but I have to have the chance, right?"

"Pika," she agreed whole-heartedly.

Ash sighed. Going to Pikachu for support was stupid. She'd do whatever he wanted to, so long as she was with him. He bit his bottom lip self-consciously, really wondering if this was the right way to go. To run away, wasn't that a bit extreme? A bit stupid?

It wasn't really all that bad here, Ash thought loyally as he stretched his arms, trying to stifle a yawn. He thought it was going to be a lot worse than what it was with his dad. His dad wasn't really all that bad. Actually, he was kind of fun, provided he wasn't busy with work. Ash remembered when he first saw his father after what, five years? He thought the guy was going to be a dictator. But really, he didn't know how to actually _be_ a father, so he fell into what he did know: being a tough businessman.

Ash went over to his bed, grabbing the list as he stood, and laid down. Pikachu hopped onto his chest and he petted her head absently, dimly remembering he was breaking the number one law of the house. It had taken him awhile to figure out why his father hadn't wanted Pokémon around. His father was from this side of the world, the more technology-driven side. His mom was, well, from Pallet by birth, where Pokémon _were_ a way of life. The Pokémon on this side of the world were more troublesome, getting into things and breaking into homes. A few years back, Ash found out, a village was attacked by a flight of birds. (The reporter didn't know what kind of Pokémon it was, but Ash figured it was a Spearow flock.) A lot of people were injured, some even died. Over here, Pokémon were just a very annoying—and in some cases dangerous—pest. It was a rare person that owned one, and they were usually the first blamed if anything—the daily milk being spilt—went wrong. And it didn't help his father's perspective on Pokémon when a few of them broke into his house and trashed the place. Of course, maybe if he knew that Pikachu was making sure that none of them broke it again . . .

It struck Ash as strange that his parents married, being on the opposite side of the spectrum for _everything_. His mom had just gotten out of high school—Dad was in the middle of college—and decided to go on a tour this side of the world with some of her friends. She, of course, got lost on the last day, with no idea as to what was going on, and spent almost a whole day trying to find her group. She literally ran into her future husband, causing both of them to tumble down the stairs. His dad said that he'd had a hard time staying mad at her because she was so beautiful.

It turned out that Mom missed her flight back home (Ash found he couldn't be surprised), so his dad said if she waited awhile he could lend her the money to get back. Well, of course one thing led to another, and young love is so blind and impetuous, so it wasn't long before his mom was pregnant with him. (She had been staying with his father for almost a year, seemingly never remembering to ask for a ticket back home.) They got married, out of love and him.

They stayed in Ziganka for a few years, but his mom was homesick for Pallet. His father couldn't just leave his practice, very small back then, and there was no way he could watch Ash, who was into everything by now. And they both agreed that Pallet would probably be a better environment for Ash to grow up in than Ziganka.

So Mrs. Ketchum finally got her ticket back home.

As he had grown up, his father had become a distant memory in his mind, the regular letter or gift, and the even rarer visit. Had his parents been together, Ash probably would have been raised a bit more strictly than what he was, but they hadn't, so he hadn't. Sometime during all of this his father suddenly realized that Ash was growing up, and had wanted to have Ash under _his_ roof for a while. It had been a nasty blow to his mother, but she couldn't turn his father down and be selfish. That wasn't like her at all.

Ash remembered crying under the willow with his mom. She had been supportive of his side, but also of his father's, and of his views of Pokémon. He wished she hadn't, even though now he knew she was telling the truth. Right now Ash dimly remembered falling asleep, his mother's arms still around him protectively. They had always sat at that tree when he was younger, scared or angry at something. At the time, he thought he was dreaming when he heard voices talking. Maybe he _had_ dreamed the entire conversation up.

 _"I'm not making a very good impression, am I?"_

 _"No, you're not. Li, he doesn't even understand why he can't have Pokémon. Let him keep Pikachu."_

 _"You know I can't, Hanako. You remember how it is over there, and really it's gotten worse. Pokémon are pests or pets under surveillance, and if he has them at the first sign of trouble they'll be blamed. God, I can barely stand the little devils, even after those nature hikes you put me through."_

 _His mother laughed a little._ _"You were so difficult, but admit it, you learned to like them a bit. And Pikachu's not that bad once she gets to know you._ "

 _"That's not the point. It doesn't matter if I don't mind the Pokémon. I'm not the one needing to be convinced. The whole city'll want them killed is a balloon pops on my street. It'll be even worse for him if his favorite one is exterminated, whether by mod or city. You know for a fact he won't agree to have her electric sacs disabled permanently."_

 _"You're right, of course."_

 _"And having Pokémon is terrible, even once having them and liking the sport is looked down on. He's going to have a tough time with kids his own age. You saw how he acted when I pushed the right buttons, and I was being nice, believe it or not." His mother gave a small laugh. "They won't. He'd say it wouldn't matter what they'd say, and that's probably true for him. But what they do will matter. Schools tough, and the actual school won't totally side with us."_

 _"I do get the point."_

 _"And you know how hard it is to be a Master."_

 _"But everyone does need a dream. And look how hard it is to be a successful businessman! You made it. Why shouldn't he try?"_

 _"He needs a decent education to get by in the world."_

 _"Yes. At least high school. I suppose I have let his studies take the backseat."_

 _"See my point. Pokémon will just distract him as well." There was a long pause. "Come on, let's get him inside."_

 _"My legs fell asleep."_

 _"Oh, Hanako," A sigh, and Ash felt himself rising up into strong arms. "He's not that heavy."_

 _"That's because he's your son."_

 _"Nice spin-off, but, no, really, he isn't."_

 _"He travels a lot, high metabolism, I suppose. He'll be growing up really fast now, you know."_

 _They were walking now, and he had shifted his position, groaning slightly. "Pikachu," he murmured._

 _"He really loves Pokémon."_

 _"Yes, he does. But he has to give them up."_

 _"Switching sides, are we?"_

 _"I'm agreeing."_

 _"Hanako."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Can you get the door?"_

 _"Oh. Okay. His room is just up the stairs. Careful not to bang his head."_

 _"I know, dear. Can you get this door, too? Thanks."_

 _His shoes had been slipped off and then he was set down gently on a bed. A blanket had been laid on him, and he thought he felt his mom kiss his cheek._

 _"Good night, Pumpkin."_

 _"Sleep well."_

In the morning, Ash had awoken to find himself in his bed, but he didn't give any thought to the dream voices until much later. He had been concerned over his impending "doom" and Pikachu. Now, lying on his bed, Ash thought he had been so immature. His dad was a pretty cool guy. They did things together, silly things. Once Ash got over being a pill, that is. For the first week or so Ash sat and sulked, pretending not to be interested in any of the attempts his father made. Most of the time his dad'd had to pull rank to get him to do something. Ash made a small smile at the way he had sat stubbornly in the car for over two hours while his father had gone into the fair grounds. He finally cracked, by at least getting out of the car, when his dad returned with some cotton candy and hot dogs. The way to his heart was probably through his stomach, Ash thought with a grin. Then they went on any ride, although of course _he_ hadn't suggested them, even though Ash wanted to. That had been a really stupid because his dad enjoyed forcing him on very demeaning rides in between the deadly-scary-god-I-could-have-died-let's-do-it-again ones. Ash remembered how hard it had been to pretend _not_ having fun when he _was_.

His father, of course, saw through his act, as he wasn't nearly as blind about such things as his mom. That didn't mean he was omni-seeing or whatever, though. That was Carmen's job. Ash figured that if Carmen ever found out that Pikachu was here, that would be the point when his dad would just be beginning to suspect.

He sighed, running his hand up Pikachu's ear. She was now asleep. Smiling slightly, he remembered when he had seen his other Pokémon when Brock and Misty came for a visit. They shouldn't have brought the Pokémon, though. It was one area this town would never budge on—he could remember listening to his father's side of the phone call when some of the residents had the nerve to call—and it was the second his dad wouldn't.

The first was grades and school. While his mom had been satisfied that he even did his homework on his training (yes, Ash to still do some kind of homework), his dad wanted A's, in everything. He groaned slightly. Half the classes he barely understood, although it was getting better the longer he stayed at it. His grades averaged at a B, which he thought was pretty good. But B's don't get you anywhere in the world, his father thought, so Ash had to do better. Ash hated those days after a test, waiting for the results in the mail. He'd usually sneaked out of the house the second he saw the school emblem on an envelope and hung around with Pikachu in the back part of the yard. His dad wouldn't go and hunt for him, no matter how upset he was. And then Ash would quickly sneak back into the house at sundown. First he went through the main entrance, but his father was usually sitting in a chair reading something and waiting for his son to go past. Then, to bypass that problem, Ash started to climb up to his window and pretended to be asleep when his father came up. That worked about three times, but, unfortunately, his dad wasn't an idiot. After hiding out a full day, Ash climbed up the wall and hefted himself up the sill. The window had been locked, which should have been his first clue something was up. But, being the dense idiot that he was, Ash tossed out his curiosity, took out his school ID card, undid the latch with much quiet swearing under his breath, and crawled in.

He had two saving graces. One, that Pikachu wasn't with him, it being a nice night and all. The other was that his father had waited until his feet were firmly planted on the floor before he spoke, because, if he hadn't, Ash would have probably fallen out of the window from surprise. After that there wasn't any more climbing through the window to avoid confrontation, because his dad usually waited for him in his room so Ash couldn't slip by.

Even still, with all his faults and beliefs about grades, Ash thought his dad was okay. Don't get him wrong, he liked his mom better. (It was probably because he could get away with just short of murder and cleaning his room under her care.) He just hoped the day never came when he'd have to choose between them.

Ash looked at his list, glad he hadn't turned off his lamp on his desk because it gave him reading light. When had the idea of running away entered his brain, anyway?

It must have came up when he saw his Pokémon again a few weeks before. (Ash figured Brock and Misty must think his father was horrible because of that argument they had heard, and of his outburst at hating it here.) They renewed that urge to go out and become the greatest. Oh, he really _wanted_ to be the best, but is that a really good reason to leave?

He sighed. Still debating on that one.

Reasons not to run away, top of the list, Mom and Dad. It'd really kill them, especially his mom, and Ash knew his parents would both blame his dad instead of him. But if wouldn't really be his dad's fault, but he'd be the scapegoat. The thought made Ash sick. He was not one to let someone else take the fall because of his actions.

Reason two, getting food, money, and shelter. Ash made a face. He had what, three hundred bucks saved up? That wouldn't last long at all, especially if something happened. And you could only pack so much food, although Ash figured he could forage. He had camped out too, but there was always Mom to bail him out if he needed it. She wouldn't be here now.

Reason three, having to hide. Okay, let's face it, if Ash disappeared, his dad would hire out the whole Police Force to find him, and they'd use the only Pokémon which could still perform in a battle, the Growlithes (and they were under lock and key), to find him. And those things are great at tracking. He'd have to disguise himself somehow too, to avoid someone recognizing him from the missing posters.

Reason four, having only Pikachu, no Pokédex. He needed identification to capture Pokémon, legally anyway, thanks to some new law, and Ash didn't have anyone who could give him a Pokédex. No one here did things with Pokémon Training. And then he still only had one Pokémon. Okay, he started out with just Pikachu, but it didn't seem right to continue his journey without the others.

Reason five, traveling alone. Almost ever since he started, Ash had always had someone to travel with, always. Misty, Brock, and Tracey had been with him, occasionally meeting up with Gary. He couldn't travel with other trainers in case they recognized him, and Ash wasn't sure if he could handle the solitude.

(Not actually a reason Ash wrote down but admitted that it would be a problem was the fact that he very easily got lost.)

Okay, reason to run away, to be a Pokémon Master. He really, really, _really_ wanted to be one. _Really!_

There wasn't much more than that.

Well, maybe there were other reasons that he couldn't think about. Ash always felt like it was a challenge when his father said trying to become a Pokémon Master was impossible. He could show him that it wasn't. Ash could also get away from that stupid school and all that homework. At that Ash made a face. And Ash figured he could make it out in the world. It wouldn't be that hard. He managed to travel through Johto, the Orange Islands, and the Indigo Leagues all right.

Carefully, Ash removed Pikachu from his chest and set her on his pillow. She didn't wake, and he smiled, giving her one last pat before standing up to walk to his bath. Debating about running away wasn't something you could write a list on, he decided as he started to rip it up. You had to have a feeling or one really, _really_ good reason. Once the pieces were small enough, Ash flushed the evidence down the toilet.

He'd have to decide one way or another, he sighed as he walked back towards the bed. He flicked off his lamp and laid down. Ash petted Pikachu again, looking at her peaceful face as she slept in the dim light. Ash smiled a bit, yawning, and started to close his eyes.

How important were Pokémon to him?

How important were his parents?

"I'll decided tomorrow," he murmured, before allowing himself to drift into the realm of unconsciousness.

The thought was slowly pushed outside of Ash's mind over the months, and he didn't think of it often, except in those moments that he enviously read letters from his mom and friends, and sometimes after a round with his father. But the thought didn't linger any longer than a night, but, even still, there were steps Ash went through ever time he felt the impulse.

Obviously he'd have to do something about his appearance. Maybe he could dye his hair or something, make-up maybe. But that'd end up being a pain, and it'd wash out after a while.

He'd need money too, his money, not stealing. Ash really didn't want to sink to that level. Well, he knew his way around the computer, so it shouldn't be too hard to create a new account. As a laugh during one of the urges to leave, Ash had made one. But after he had made it, the screen blinking his new account, the laughter had died from his lips and he wondered why he had done that. Quickly, he exited out and tried to forget he ever did.

Slowly, bits of the pieces would fall into place, but Ash never took the dreaming seriously, not really. It would be crazy to run away, and he knew it. Yet Ash knew how he'd get out of town, which city he'd go to. True there were a few minor problems, like having no Pokédex and only Pikachu, but that just helped him remember that it was just a silly notion that would soon pass.

Still, on some days he'd sit outside with Pikachu in a tree and look at the wild Pokémon about, sometimes while they were causing trouble, he'd feel that quiet longing. And at those times, the urge never left, no matter how much he wanted it to.

"I don't hear any practicing," his father teased, walking into the study, where Ash usually practiced because of the lighting and large windows to look out of.

Ash looked up from behind his stand and smiled innocently, cheeks full of a cheese sandwich he had made himself. Carmen was on personal leave for the next two weeks, so the two men had to fend for themselves. It slightly worried Ash that he was a better cook that his father was. At least _he_ knew how to work a toaster. He swallowed the sandwich, then took a gulp of his milk, pretty much emptying the large glass. "Working on it," Ash informed him, finishing the glass with another deep gulp, then wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand. He frowned when he saw that he had eaten up his entire meal and was still hungry.

"Be back in a moment," he said, leaping up and dashing out of the room. Then he doubled back, sticking his head in. "You want anything from the kitchen?"

He thought about it. "Juice?"

"Only have grape and orange. I finished off the apple this morning."

Mr. Ketchum made a face very similar to his son's. Apple was his favorite, as well as his son's it appeared. "Orange, then."

Ash nodded. "Anything else?"

"A sala—" He saw his son start to say something and stopped. "Just bring me whatever we have left, all right."

"I _think_ we have some liver left in the back," Ash smiled happily, dashing away.

Mr. Ketchum chuckled slightly as he sat down behind the desk. If Ash kept eating the way he'd been doing as of late, it meant going back to the store again. Jeez, he didn't know boys ate _that_ much, but at least there weren't any leftovers in the kitchen for very long. Shaking his head almost sadly, Mr. Ketchum opened his desk and withdrew his accounts.

Ash peered into the fridge, humming a little tune.

"Pikachu?"

"Wah—AH!" he yelped, surprised, hitting his head on shelf. Rubbing his head, Ash looked down to see his yellow friend smiling up at him.

"Pikachu, what are you doing down here?" he hissed.

She looked hurt, cringing. "Chu?"

"Dad's home. Remember, Carmen's on leave," Ash said quickly, looking around wildly, as if expecting his dad to come strolling in. "What are you doing in the house?"

"Pika chu ka ka pikachu pika pika, Pikapi," she complained.

"I know its cold and lonely outside," Ash said softly, opening the bottom shelf. "You want an apple? Last one." Pikachu took it. "We have some ketchup too. You can go and hang out in my room, all right?"

Pikachu nodded, taking the bottle from her trainer. "Pikachu chu?" she asked, setting down her apple and looking at him imploringly.

Ash looked at her sympathetically. "After I finish practicing, okay?"

She agreed. "Pika."

"Just be sure to take the back way up," he sighed, watching as Pikachu hefted up the ketchup bottle and apple, beginning her slow waddle back up the stairs.

"Pi," she replied, although a tad muffled because of her burden.

Ash shook his head sadly, following her with his eyes, then back to the important task of getting some food for himself. One thing about living with him mom was that Ash would eat almost _anything_ , because she could really cook. Things always tasted better if there was a bit of that springy green stuff next to it.

Arms filled with snacks, Ash kicked the door shut and emptied his burden onto the counter, looking at it critically. He figured you could put almost anything between two slices of bread, but it was depressing when he thought of what his mom could have made with this. In either case, he pulled out the last couple slices of bread out of the breadbox and started to swamp them with mustard, then placed on the very last few slices of bologna.

He knew there was a bag of chips and cookies up on the top shelf, where Ken thought no one looked. Everyone pinched them and placed the empty bags back, but Ken never brought it up. Ash figured he just hid them at random, and then forgot about them, he had so many hidden. It was pretty good to open the glove compartment and pull out a bag of candy bars for breakfast. Ash leaped up and carefully reached over the decorative siding, pleased to hear the crinkled of the plastic bags.

"Sandwiches, chips, cookies . . ." he muttered, looking over the meal. "Vegetables, maybe." Lucky there were a few stacks of celery, and Ash got some peanut butter to eat with them. He also got out the container of grapes to eat as well.

Ash hummed as he poured his glass full of milk again, then the glass of juice for his dad. As a last minute idea, he checked the fridge for a soda. Sadly, Ash remembered that he must have finished off the case yesterday.

Never one for thinking about an easier way to do something, Ash started to try and pick everything up at once. By the time he to leave, he was gripping the chip and cookie bags with his teeth, holding the drinks against his body with his left arm while his hand held his sandwich, and with the arm was the peanut butter, celery, and grapes. Then Ash waddled out carefully, not much different than how Pikachu had left.

Thankfully the study wasn't that far from the kitchen, with no stairs to climb up. Once he reached the study doors, Ash pushed the doors open by walking backwards. He grinned feebly, teeth still locked on the bag seams, when his dad looked from his papers, an amused expression on his face.

"Wouldn't it have been easier just to bring the refrigerator in here?"

"Maybe," Ash agreed immediately, letting the forgotten bags fall to the floor. He stepped on the chips before he could stop himself, and the bag popped open. "Oops."

Mr. Ketchum left his papers to help his son, taking away the sandwiches, fruit, and celery. "Do we even have anything left?" he asked absently as he set them down.

Ash set down the glasses and peanut butter down, spilling a bit on the desk. He paid it no noticed, looking at his shirt, which was slightly damp from the liquids. "We have canned things."

"You could have used a tray, you know?" Mr. Ketchum teased lightly, picking up the dropped bags and watching his son examining his shirt.

The young boy blushed slightly, taking up his sandwich and looking at the papers his father had been working on. Columns of numbers—expenses, Ash figured—filled the paper and probably the next one under it as well. He chewed thoughtfully as he eyes strolled over the desk, suddenly spying a paper. A headline spoke of a Persian being destroyed for "clawing" a neighbor. Ash knew the Persian, and the report negated to mention that the Persian had been declawed.

"I thought you weren't supposed to eat when you practice," Mr. Ketchum said, eating a few chips, watching as his son read the article.

"I'm not actually playing yet," he countered with a grin, pushing away the paper. "And I didn't know they allowed greasy fingerprints on office papers?"

"I'm not working on them, am I?" Mr. Ketchum smiled back. He looked at his son critically. "Are you actually going to practice?"

Ash sighed, exasperated. "I _will_ , but I'm hungry," he stated his case absently as he held up the peanut butter jar, trying to get some of the cream on the celery. Very true, he was always hungry, and any food in the house didn't have much of a chance, like the celery he finished.

Mr. Ketchum gave him a small smile as he sat back down, wiping up the spilled liquid with a tissue he had. "I can tell. Just try and get in ten minutes. Of playing," he added as his son finished his sandwich.

Rolling his eyes unceremoniously, Ash picked up his milk and went back to his stand, grabbing the cookies as he went. He sat down, taking another gulp of milk. "I need more—"

His father didn't even look up. "Just _practice_."

Ash harrumphed slightly as he set down the glass. He didn't want to eat the cookies without milk, so that meant he wasn't going to eat them right now. Damn.

He sighed and removed his flute from the stand, flexing his fingers over the keys. Ash _really_ didn't want to play the flute, but Z.P.S. wanted its students to have a very rounded schedule and the flute was the only instrument left that needed another player. Okay, so it wasn't that bad of an instrument, but Ash didn't think it suited his personality. (Where that terminology came from, Ash had no idea.) The flute was so . . .soft, reserved, quiet, and not to mention that he was the only guy who played one. (All right, so there were only two players on the flute, but that's not the point. Don't ponder on the details.) Okay, so he was being instrumentally sexist, but guys shouldn't play the flute, especially him. Why couldn't he play the drums? _That_ didn't look too hard. (Oh, hardy har.)

The flute wasn't that bad, he admitted off-handedly as he ran a quick chromatic scale for warm-up. And after _many_ lessons after school and on Sundays, his _only_ day free from school, he was finally up to the standard of the other students. He had even taken up the challenge of challenging Sasha, the other flutist, so he could be the best. (He was certainly going to be the best at _something_ , even if he didn't like it.) It had been a real blow to her pride when he did beat her, and it had made Ash feel guilty that he had even challenged her. He was even willing to blow his part when she re-challenged him, but she never did, and Ash wasn't stupid—believe it or not—enough to tell her he'd let her be first. So now, ever time he sat down, Sasha looked at him contemptuously. She had been especially biting when it turned out for the Winter Concert that the first flute had an important solo.

Ash played the B-flat major scale, then its corresponding minor, melodic, and harmonic absently. His mom had come up to hear him play, and so they could spend the holidays together as a family, something Ash couldn't even remember doing. It had been a surprise for Ash on his father's part, and it had been a big surprise. Between hunting for his other shoe, tying his "noose" on, and making doubly sure he had his solo, and then worrying about totally blowing it in front of everybody, Ash felt he did not need any added stress. So when he had opened the door while balancing on one foot (he had been placing his once-missing-now-found shoe on), it had nearly tripled his stress seeing his mom standing there in a semi-formal dress. He couldn't blow it now, not with his mom listening in the audience.

Funny, during his Pokémon battles, (except before the first one at the Indigo League, Ash accepted,) he hadn't been that worried. Then the worry seemed to be making up for the lost time. Ash _did not_ want to make a fool of himself, and it didn't help that he always heard Misty's voice saying, "Too late for that." Sasha had been in some sort of twisted glee, sensing his nervousness and worry before they walked out onto the stage. In her mind, she probably figured Ash would bomb it, and the director, Professor Sinistra, would put her back as first flute. Yet, strangely enough, the second he had gotten up on stage, the worry had seemingly disappeared as he got focused. Apparently Ash's mind could only being worried about one thing at a time.

His mom had thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world, and, although he wouldn't admit it, Ash kind of liked the piece too. He knew it by heart by now, after so many hours of practicing it, so in reality he probably wouldn't have needed to bring his music. Anyway, after the concert, they had gone out to for supper. His dad had originally made reservations at some upscale restaurant, but after glancing at his wife and son's facial expressions looking just out the window, he had driven them to the local burger joint. The family had had a great laugh at all the looks the patrons of the restaurant gave them, coming in wearing their overly formal clothes for a double cheeseburger, shake, and fries, and then when the family had played in the playground.

Ash flew over his practice, not exactly focused. He actually didn't have any new music yet, as they had just finished their concert, but his father wanted him to _try_ and practice daily. Ash did it to humor him for now, although he actually would practice with more seriousness. For now, Ash settled with going over his scales and running through chorales.

Satisfied that he had at least taken the instrument out and played a few tunes, Ash quickly, but efficiently, cleaned the instrument and placed it back in its case. He left the stuff in the study, knowing that he had the week off and wouldn't need it for school. Mr. Ketchum smiled briefly, looking up, as Ash strolled out with the precious bag of cookies.

After making an emergency trip to get more milk (Ash despondently noticed that they were now out after he filled his glass halfway), Ash rushed up the stairs and to his room. "Hey, Pikachu," he called as he shut the door, looking around the room for his yellow friend.

"Chu, Pikapi!" she smiled, coming out from under his covers where she had been hiding.

Ash efficiently plopped down next to her, opening the bag once his stomach was on the material. "Want one?" he smiled. Pikachu took one, then set out to cover it with ketchup. Ash made a face. "No offense, but yuck. Ketchup on chocolate chip?" He shuddered, ducking his cookie in the milk with his fingertips.

"Chu," she replied, chewing on the creation. "Pikachu ka chu chu pika pikachu ka pikachu?"

"Just a reading assignment," Ash replied, his mouth full of cookie. Pikachu looked at him skeptically. "And a couple problems for math." She tilted her ear, and Ash blew his bangs out of his eyes in defeat. " _And_ an essay. Happy?"

Pikachu nodded, pleased. Ash needed a bit of prodding when he had over one day to complete an assignment, and it really was Pikachu that made him get the assignments done right away instead of waiting for the last minute. "Ka chu pikachu, Pikapi."

"Do you even know the meaning of 'vacation'?" Ash sighed rolling over onto his back to grab the book that rested on his dresser. His thumb searched for the bookmark. "I have plenty of time."

"Pikapi," she scolded good-naturedly.

"Well, I do," he grumbled rolling back onto his stomach, although he too was smiling. Digging out another cookie, his eyes strolled over the words. Pikachu crawled under his arm and rested under his chin, looking at the book as well. Occasionally one of them would grab a cookie to chew on.

The sounds and doings around the house went over their heads, although Pikachu removed herself from under Ash's chin to sit by the window and watch the ParriKeet, harmless tiny bird Pokémon that the city also didn't hate as much as other Pokémon, mostly because they were out-of-the-way, literally. Of course, Ash had buried quite a few that had been shot down by citizens. The birds liked to fly around Ash's window, for he usually had a tray of fruit for them on the sill.

It was the knocking at Ash's door that snapped them both out of it. Ash jerked his head up from the book and quickly threw a blanket over Pikachu. "Yeah?" he called trying to sound calm as he sat up, placing himself in front of the slightly shaking lump that was Pikachu.

Mr. Ketchum opened the door and stuck his head in. A smile passed over his face, seeing Ash with book in his hands. "Actually doing your homework? I figured you'd wait for the last day."

Ash forced a grin, feeling Pikachu dig into his back. "What's up?"

His father sighed. "I'm going to have to be out all tomorrow, won't get back until late. You gonna be all right?"

"Course, no problem," Ash smiled, seeing that his father was truly apologetic about it. His father had originally planned to work at home while Carmen was on leave and Ash was on vacation.

"That's good. I'll let you get back to your book."

The door was shut, and Pikachu carefully crawled out for under the blanket. "Pikachu," she sighed in relief.

Ash smiled at her as he petted the top of her head reassuringly. "Tell me about it, Pikachu."

"Pikapi!"

Ash groaned, rolling over sleepily. "It's too early, Pikachu," he muttered, opening his eyes a sliver to see that it was still dark outside his window.

Pikachu leaped on his chest heavily, causing him to exhale a deep breath of air. "Pikachu!" she smiled. Ash groaned, grabbing a pillow to cover his head and escape her gaze, and Pikachu shook her head disapprovingly. She didn't shock him though, mostly because she had more or less grown out of that method of getting what she wanted. (Also, if he yelled, it might draw the attention of the other members of the household.) Instead, she leaped off him and turned on his radio.

He pressed the pillow tighter to his head, ignoring the fact that he could barely breathe. In Ash's mind, if he didn't have to get up before the crack of noon he wasn't going to. This _was_ his vacation, damn it, although in the end he did removed the pillow from his face. "By Mew, Pikachu," he sighed, keeping his eyes closed, listening to the radio jockey spew out the day's random news.

There are moments in a person's life where something simple touches them in a way they can't understand and compels them to do something that they otherwise wouldn't otherwise realistically consider. (That's how a lot of people get married.) Sometimes it's another person's actions, a word spoken, a phrase in a book, the very mood of a room, something. But all that is known is that that's the point—so it is believed by the person—when the person's life chooses the path that it will travel down for the rest of the life.

In truth, it was really coincidental that Pikachu turned the radio on at the exact second on the exact station that the song was on and just beginning.

 _In the morning when you wake up  
Open your eyes to a new day,  
Look around at the gifts you've got.  
You've been so lucky along the way._

 _Time to finish what you've begun,  
Have the faith, you're the one.  
Throw your hat high—up to the sun_

 _Now you face the greatest test  
Use the lessons that you've learned  
Your goal is to be the best  
And claim the prize that you've earned_

 _Ever since you were a young man,  
You've kept your eye on the master plan  
To reach for the top—and touch the sky_

 _It's your destiny  
To spread your wings and fly_

 _You can do it if you really try  
You can do it if you really try  
Spread your wings and learn to fly  
You can do it if you really, really try_

 _Keep movin' forward to stay alive  
Trust your heart and you'll survive  
Follow your dreams, never let them die_

 _It's your destiny  
To spread your wings and fly._

 _You can do it if you really try  
You can do it if you really try  
Spread your wings and learn to fly  
You can do it if you really, really try_

As the song went into the flourish ending, Ash blinked and bit his lip slightly, clicking the radio off. Carefully, he pushed himself up and looked out the window. Now he could see a trace of the first ray of light etching over the horizon. How many Pokémon are out past that horizon?

 _No, don't think that way_ , Ash ordered abruptly, looking away from the window towards his room "Don't even think about it," Ash muttered.

"Pikachu?" Pikachu asked, setting herself right in front of him and tilting her ear.

He jumped out of the bed and started to pace, mind buzzing. Today would be prefect. His dad was out all day, Carmen was on leave, and Ken was . . .was somewhere. Never been a better opportunity.

"This is crazy," Ash muttered, although the barely contained excitement was in his voice.

"Pikapi?" the mouse asked, slightly worried.

Ash whirled around, a smile on his face. "Let's do it, Pikachu, huh?"

She jumped back, startled. "Chu?" she asked tentatively.

He leaned against the bed. "We can do it, don't you think? It wouldn't be that hard. I mean, I think I've got most of the details worked out."

"Pika ka pikachu?" she demanded, not being a psychic Pokémon.

"Let's leave!" Ash laughed, finding humor that she didn't know what he was talking about.

" _Pikapi_!" she yelled in surprise. She looked at Ash's grin with wide eyes, an excitement in them that she hadn't seen in a long time. Yet, she couldn't let him go off. She couldn't. She'd humor him for a while, but Ash wouldn't actually leave.

He wouldn't. Pikachu was so sure of it.

 _ **POKÉDEX**_

ParriKeet—the Song Pokémon:

The unevolved form of Parrette, ParriKeet is a friendly and cheery bird that sings a soothing melody to travelers. For homes that have a ParriKeet as a pet, be warned that they can imitate any speech they hear on a regular basis, although they are not conscious, so it is believed, of what they are saying. [return]

Parrette—the Plumed Pokémon:

The evolved form of ParriKeet, Parrette is large and seemingly entirely made of feathers. All that is seen is the beak and feet. It sings quite beautifully and make wonderful pets, provided you don't mind all the feathers and singing at the unknown hour of 5:30 am. More apt to perch than to fly, this bird spends hours (it has to) preening itself. If it gets soaked, it is impossible for the bird to fly.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three: Tunnels

Pikachu crouched in the pack as Ash jumped off the bus, shaking. "Pikachu," she moaned.

"It's all right, Pikachu," he sighed, looking around the bus stop and closing his jacket against the chilly wind. Cornflower Strait looked like a nice city, and he started to walk around aimlessly through the half-slush, stretching his legs. Riding a bus for over eight hours was not very fun, and Ash silently vowed never to do it again.

Walking down the street, Ash caught a glimpse of himself in the windows. Carefully he ran his hand through his hair. It was only slightly lighter than it had been before the bleaching, but it wasn't the deep black that it once had been, for sure. He'd have to bleach it again later on to get it the pale yellow-white he wanted.

"Pikachu pika chu pikachu ka," Pikachu complained from inside his pack.

"Oh, all right Pikachu," Ash grinned, stepping into a side alley. He removed his pack and opened the lid, allowing his friend to get some of the refreshingly cold air. "Better?"

Pikachu looked at him crossly. She was not pleased, spending the whole ride in the pack. "Ka," she snapped, cheeks emitting electric bolts.

"Hey, easy," Ash coaxed. "Just calm down. No more bus rides, okay, but you gotta still stay in the pack until we get out of the city, unless you want to get chased out."

She sighed, shaking her head no.

"You warm enough?" he asked, his mind shifting towards Pikachu's well being. It had to be winter, didn't it?

"Pika," Pikachu said, dropping back into the pack heavily.

"That's good," Ash smiled sincerely. "Look, I'll go get us something to eat, and then head out to the country. There's bound to a Pokémon professor around that can give me a Pokédex, right?" It was the one of the few remaining flaws in his plan.

Pikachu didn't have the heart to tell him probably not. She just smiled up at him, a bit pitifully, but Ash took it as encouragement.

"Don't worry. We'll be fine." Ash suddenly dug into his pocket. "Here, I got some peanuts left from the bus ride. I know you're probably starving. I know I am." He grinned like a jack-o-lantern. "Eat up."

Pikachu rolled her eyes as she took the unopened package. ( _Peanuts left, ha!_ she thought.) "Pikapi." Carefully, she withdrew a peanut and held it up for him. Ash shook his head.

"You need it more than I do." He scratched her ear. "I'll leave the top open. If you get cold, let me know." With one last grin, Ash heft up the pack and put it on his shoulders. Pikachu felt him sigh through the pack.

"We'll be okay. Promise."

Ash curled up next to the building, clutching the small bag. How was he supposed to know you needed a reservation to get into half these hotels? He rolled his eyes slightly, spirits only slightly dampened. "Hey, Pikachu, hungry?" he asked the bag next to him.

"Pika!" she smiled, emerging.

He grinned as he opened the bag and put his hand in. "Good. I got us some sandwiches." A steaming sandwich was withdrawn, and Ash handed it over to Pikachu. Then he withdrew his own and started to eat.

"We have to be careful not to spend all our money on store food," he stated between bites. "Actually, it was probably a good thing we couldn't get a room." Ash was quiet for a moment. "You know, Pikachu, I think we're spoiled. Too much good food and soft beds." He chuckled.

Pikachu looked hopefully at him, wondering if he was having second thoughts. He didn't continue, chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich, and Pikachu shook her head sadly.

After finishing his meager meal, Ash stretched out his arms and yawned, his eyes going up to the skies. "You know, you can see the stars in Ziganka at night." Little clouds were created from his breathing.

"Pi," Pikachu agreed, leaping onto his lap and snuggling close.

Ash smiled down at her, petting her head. "Well, let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we head out." Pikachu nodded, liking the feel of his hand on her head and ears while she drifted off to sleep.

Again Ash smiled, eyes studying her face and feeling her gentle heartbeat against his chest. True, he was having second thoughts, but that couldn't stop him now. He had crossed the Rubicon, and there was no going back. It would be stupid to. Ash made a face. Well, it wasn't exactly smart to write his mom before he left telling her everything, but Ash knew his dad wouldn't find out until tomorrow morning, when he came to wake Ash up. Actually, Ash started to wonder why he had even written that letter. Wouldn't he want to have as much time as possible before the police were contacted? Why had he?

He started a slow pondering of this thought, actually curious. Well, he had done it on a whim, for sure. And the letter had said absolutely diddle, just that he was leaving and he'd be all right, love Ash. It didn't even say why he had left. Ash shook his head, once again surprised that the strands that fell over his eyes were light.

 _Oh well, what's done is done_ , he thought dully, still petting Pikachu. He had expected a lot more of a fight from her to not leave, and it slightly touched Ash that she trusted him. If she had put up a fight about leaving, he wouldn't have left. Ash wouldn't have wanted to put her though something she didn't want to, and he certainly wouldn't have left her behind. Ash's eyes shone fondly down at her, and he frowned slightly to see that she was shivering. Carefully he shifted her so he could zip her up in his jacket. Pleased, he started to close his eyes and prepare to sleep.

It wouldn't be correct to say he was sleeping when something woke up. Ash had been listening to the traffic and the unfamiliar noises of the city when he heard a silent noise coming down the alley towards him. He didn't need to have his eyes open to know that the person stopped near him and started to reach for his pack.

He lashed out his hand, catching the person by the wrist. "That's mine."

The figure in shadows leaped back, slightly slipping on the slush, surprised that Ash was still awake. It had been watching him for some time and figured that the boy finally had drifted into unconsciousness. Its wrist was free from Ash by the movement back, and quickly it kicked up the pack and ran.

"Hey, come back!" Ash yelled, surprised at the quickness the person had. He leaped up, also slipping wildly on the half-snow city creation, and started to run.

The figure looked back to see Ash close. With grim determination, it leaped up onto a dumpster and over a wall, then continued to run. When it glanced back, it was surprised to see that the boy was still on its tail. In started to knock down garbage cans, hoping that that would slip the kid up. Normally the figure didn't have this much trouble with a simple pickpocket.

Ash grunted as he leaped over the cans, intent on getting his bag back. His had his clothes and food in there, as well as his money.

"Pikapi!" Pikachu complained, sticking her head out.

"Our stuff got stolen, Pikachu!" Ash hissed between leaps, climbing over another fence and unto the dumpster. He could se the figure up ahead, and could tell that the gap between them was shortening.

"Ka!" Pikachu snapped, bolts escaping her cheeks.

"Well, don't worry, we'll catch him," Ash promised, running faster.

 _Damn, damn, damn_ , the figure thought, figuring out that it had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the line. It was not good on pressure, and the boy was giving it a lot. No one chased it before, mainly because they never knew that something was stolen from them. Also, this boy was good at getting past all the obstacles the thief left.

 _Well, why not just drop the pack?_ the figure reasoned. The boy would probably stop chasing it. The thief looked back. _Probably not_.

Actually, the boy wasn't yelling for the police or anything, which was a good thing. He probably just wanted his pack back. The thief ran and then doubled back to run down the side alley. _Finally!_

Ash caught the figure dashing off into the new alleyway, and he followed. "He's not going to get away from us, right, Pikachu?"

"Pi," Pikachu agreed wearily.

They entered the alley, and Ash skidded to a halt. It didn't stop him from running into the wall.

"Dead end," he muttered rubbing his face, then quickly looked down his jacket. "You okay, Pikachu?"

"Ka," she replied weakly, eyes wavering.

"Sorry," Ash smiled sheepishly, then looked around the alley. There was no fire escapes or doors, no way to scale this wall. He looked around in the dim lighting. He couldn't even hear any footsteps. "He got a—"

"Pikapi!" Pikachu said, sticking her head out and sniffing the air. Her night vision was better that his, and she could see (and smell the scent of the thief who had gone down) the manhole cover.

Ash squinted, then made a face. "Aw, man! The sewers?"

"Pika!"

Even with his reluctance, Ash made his way over to the cover, and wasn't that surprised to see that it was slightly open. Using all his strength— _damn, these things are_ _ **heavy**_!—he rolled the cover over and started down the hole.

He was surprised that it didn't smell like a normal sewer. Although it was dark, Ash could tell that there wasn't any slime on the floor, and, when his hand touched the wall, there was none on the walls. "Which way, Pikachu?"

Pikachu sniffed the air, trying to get past the slight sewer smell. (Just because Ash couldn't smell the sewer didn't mean she couldn't.)

"Chu, Pikapi," she stated in a positive tone, telling him to go right.

They started to walk in the darkness, Pikachu's ears perked for any sound. Ash walked carefully, keeping a hand against the wall. There weren't any outlets from this dark path. He didn't doubt Pikachu's call, mainly because the thought didn't cross his mind that she could be wrong.

Slowly, a light started to flicker into their eyes, growing gradually brighter as they continued. At a point the light glowed brightly like it would outside, and the two could see that the sewer wasn't a sewer, but a hall. It was clean, and along the walls electric lamps shone brightly. The stone floor had changed into steel.

"Pika," Pikachu muttered in awe.

"Tell me about it," Ash agreed, running a finger over the carved patterns on the stone as he walked.

"Pikachu ka!" Pikachu said excitably. Ash looked up to see a group of walking their way, chatting freely in some language Ash couldn't understand. They paid Ash no mind as they passed, and Ash released his breath.

"Come on, Pikachu. Let's find my pack, and we can get out of here," he muttered. Pikachu nodded her agreement, and they continued on.

Now the halls seemed to separate from the main one, going off in a hundred different directions. And, with each passed hall, people mingled out. Some gave Ash a stare or two, but most, like the group of men, ignored him. Using Pikachu's nose, they navigated through the halls. Most of the occupants were children, younger or as old as him, Ash noticed, although he did see a few adults here and there. The people here looked tough and ready for anything, although the eyes that fell on him were kind.

"Pikachu!" Pikachu hissed, pointing down a hall from inside Ash's jacket. She had been cowering inside, hoping that no one would see her. Ash nodded and headed down. After passing a few rooms, Ash stopped.

Inside the room was a group of people surrounding another lime green-haired person. They seemed to be listening to the person rattle on.

". . . But I lost him. He didn't even have a chance, the idiot."

"Our top lit' thief," cooed a soft voice.

"Let's see what you got, kid," another voice said.

"Right."

The group parted momentarily, and Ash saw the familiar brown-grey fabric. "Hey, that's mine!" he yelled, jumping to the room. Suddenly as the eyes were on him, including the green-haired thief. "So hand it over!"

The eyes shifted towards the young thief, who Ash reckoned was about his age or younger, and a girl. She smiled weakly. "Well, what do you know?" she chuckled forcefully.

"Lost him, huh?" sneered a boy, a tall red-head.

Ash actually didn't care for what was going on, stomping in and grabbing the pack from her. "Thank you."

"Hey, I stole it fair and square!" she snapped, still having a grip on it.

"You don't steal fair and square!" Ash retorted, tugging harder.

"How'd you get down here?" demanded another man, grabbing Ash's shoulder to wrench him away.

Ash tried to get away from the grip. "Followed her."

"He couldn't have!" the girl exclaimed. "There's no way he could have seen the entrance in the dark."

"Then how'd he get down here?" inquired the redhead.

"Umm . . ."

A white-haired girl with brilliant green eyes shook her head sadly. "Let him go, Craig. He can't get out anyway."

The man holding Ash, Craig, let go. "How'd you get down here and find the entrance, kid?" Craig growled.

"I _looked_ ," Ash responded lowly. "And if you give me my pack, I'll be on my way."

The red-haired man looked down at Ash. "You're pretty mouthy for a kid," he said absently. "Well, Shamin?"

The girl looked down and tossed over the pack over to Ash. "He shouldn't have been able to find the entrance," she muttered.

"But he did. I have to wonder if you're losing your touch," Craig sneered.

Shamin's cheeks flushed angrily. "Hey, I tried to lose him! I thought I did."

"You thought wrong."

The white-haired girl—she looked about 18—placed a hand gently on Shamin's shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it. We all slip once."

Ash looked at the group, who were suddenly all looking at him. "Well, I'll just be leaving," he smiled bravely, backing up.

"Maybe," the red-haired man smiled deviously, stepping over to shut the door. "What's your name?"

"What's yours?"

"Johnny."

Ash nodded, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, Johnny." Johnny looked at it coldly, and Ash slowly put his hand back down. "I'm . . . Shan." His mind forced the name out of his lips. "I guess I'll be on my way. Good night."

"Listen, Shan, we don't let people just come and go," Johnny stated, leaning fully on the door.

Ash crossed his arms over his chest. He could feel Pikachu ready to release a thunderbolt at his notice. "So what do you plan to do? Hold me prisoner?"

"In a sense, yes, until we know you can be trusted."

"Oh, Johnny," sighed the still unnamed female. "He's just some kid." Her green eyes went over Ash, critiquing him. "Jeez, he ain't gonna go to the cops. Hell, probably don't even know how to get there."

"Miriam, you are too trusting."

"Better than bein' a suspicious bastard," she smiled. Shamin giggled.

Ash stood ready for anything, gripping his backpack. "Take him to one of the rooms, Craig,"

"Right, Johnny." Craig took a step forward as Ash whirled. "Come on, kid." It was clear that Craig was taking some kind of twisted pleasure in all this as he stepped froward.

"Sorry, but no. And I seriously suggest you don't come any closer, otherwise the results could be shocking." He grinned at the pun.

Craig laughed, as did Johnny. Shamin looked ready to as well, but Miriam stopped the laugh with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Never underestimate the ability of someone that can track _ya_ ," she whispered.

"Let's see what you got, kid." Craig leaped, but Ash jumped nimbly aside. Years of traveling and being chased by Team Rocket taught him never to use Pikachu too soon, although he could tell she was ready. The electricity she had built up was seeping into him, making his hair stand slightly on end.

"You can't get out, just so you know. Not unless you got some ace in the hole," Johnny drawled, enjoying the show. Ash leaped up onto a wooden table, just as Craig grabbed his ankle and prepared to trip him up.

"NOW!" Ash yelled opening his jacket to free Pikachu.

"Pikaaaa-CHUU!" the tiny mouse yelled as it leaped away, filling the room with her thunderbolts. They seeped right into the steel floor and into the people standing on. Ash, on the wooden table, was relatively safe.

"AHH!" they all yelled simultaneously in pain, then fell to the floor smoking.

"Come on, Pikachu!" Ash laughed grimly, jumping down and rolling Johnny aside to open the door. "Let's get out of here."

"Pika!" she agreed as they ran down the hall. People literally jumped aside when they saw the tiny mouse running next to her owner. Ash had forgotten about the fear of Pokémon that people had here. Pikachu fueled that fear by allowing thunderbolts to encircle her body.

"Stop them!" Johnny yelled, recovering first from the shock first.

"Pikachu! Get on my back," Ash ordered quickly, knowing Pikachu had better aim the higher she was up. Pikachu immediately complied.

"Call me crazy, Pikachu, but this isn't exactly how I planned it'd go," he muttered looking over his shoulder, quickly changing direction as a group of the braver kids ran towards him. "Not like I had a plan."

He must have been running around for a good ten minutes. If anyone ever got too close, Pikachu always managed to scare them off with a teasing thunderbolt. The two had had to double back more than once though, and it was safe to say that Ash was, unsurprisingly, lost. Suddenly he tripped, for someone had stuck a booted foot out into the hall. Pikachu flew head, then rolled a bit. "Pikapi," she called, running back over to him.

Ash pushed himself up and turned to face the tripper, ready for anything. The familiar white hair appeared in the doorway. "Kid, ya ain't got a chance," Miriam smiled, gripping him by the front of his shirt and yanking him in. Pikachu barely made it in as the door slammed shut.

"What are you doing?" Ash demanded hotly, stepping back. He had heard the door lock.

"Pika!" Pikachu added, cheeks able to light a city.

"Keep yar little rodent at bay, kid," Miriam ordered, also stepping back. She patted her hair, and Ash thought it seemed to have a static problem. "I know these tunnels like the back of my hand."

"I'm not being some prisoner," Ash snapped.

She shook her head sadly. "Ya already are." Then she took another step back a disappeared on the teleport pad.

"Hey!" Ash yelled. "Let me out of here! Let me out!"

Ash frowned at the ceiling as he laid on the cot that had been the room, his hands under his head. Pikachu rested next to him. Every once and awhile some jerk of a kid would bang on the door, but that hadn't happened for a while now, mostly because every time someone did Ash had Pikachu release a mild Thundershock. He had given up yelling hours ago, (he had a watch on, so he knew the time,) and now he merely looked up at the ceiling at the now familiar cracks.

He couldn't take it. He was supposed to heading out to be a Master or _something_ , not stuck as some prisoner. Savagely, Ash sat up and grabbed his bag. Life sucked. Sucked. Sucked. _Sucked_. Pikachu looked at him with her brown eyes, knowing that he was getting cabin fever major.

"Pikapi," she cooed, sitting up and watching him dig. She knew he only grabbed the bag for something to do.

"This is so stupid, Pikachu," Ash hissed, shuffling aimlessly. Then he threw the pack against the opposite wall. "Stupid!" He placed his elbows on his knees and held the sides of his face.

Shaking her head, Pikachu jumped off the bed and went over to the traveling pack, also digging inside it. Ash had packed extra sets of clothes, some papers and envelopes, a sleeping bag, few packets of food, and money. Pikachu nosed the sleeping bag out, because she too had packed something for just such an occasion. Ash watched glumly, although he was slightly interested, as she unrolled the bag with her nose and scampered inside. She appeared a moment later holding a case.

"What do you got there?" Ash asked, genuinely curious. Pikachu leaped up next to him and handed over the case. He opened it, already knowing what it was. "My _flute?_ You brought my _flute_?"

"Pika!" she nodded, patting his arm. She pointed at the shiny instrument. "Chu pikachu ka, Pikapi!"

Her trainer looked at her crossly, but under her gaze crumpled and started to put the instrument together. "I can't believe you brought this," he muttered under his breath. "Maybe we can hock it for some extra cash."

Pikachu _knew_ he wouldn't. She knew it more than she knew he wouldn't run away, she meant. His father had given him the instrument, and Ash would sooner die than give it up, even if he did "hate" it. "Chu ka pikachu!" she urged as he slowly put it together.

A glimmer of a smile crossed his lips, and he brought the instrument up to his lips. Slowly, he blew, eyes closed, and played his solo, the only thing he could recall at the moment. He had started out all by himself, and Ash could almost hear when the violins and percussion would come it, when the violins and brass accompanied or challenged him with the sole possession of the melody. The whole orchestra was in his mind from the memory.

As the last note died away, Ash's eyes shot open when he heard clapping, quiet clapping, from outside his door.

"That was beautiful."

He was quiet for a moment, then finally responded. "Thank you. What do you want?"

"I'm on guard duty thanks to you," the voice said after a moment. "Remember me?"

"The one who took my pack, right? Serves you right." Ash didn't hide the bitterness.

"Hey, if you didn't run after me!"

"If you hadn't taken my pack!"

"If you—what's the point!" She was quiet for a moment. "What's your name again?"

Ash had to stop himself from saying his true name. "Shan."

"I'm Shamin. Kinda cool."

"What?"

"Our names."

He didn't click on. "What about them?"

Shamin sighed. "Forget it. So you play the flute?"

"Duh."

"Hey, I wouldn't be so cocky, Mr. Prisoner!" she snapped. "I was just gonna say you're pretty good."

Ash blushed slightly, kind of happy with the compliment, but didn't let on. "I played at school."

"I play the guitar, you know?"

"No, I didn't."

"You _are_ pretty mouthy."

He snorted. "Well you'd be too if you were stuck behind the door. I didn't ask to be here. I'm supposed to be training!"

"What? That little rodent of yours?" Shamin laughed.

"Her name is Pikachu!" Ash yelled hotly.

"Pikachu!"

"They're dangerous, ya know? Pokémon, I mean."

Ash growled slightly. "Shows how much you know," he muttered. "Just go away."

"What were you doing sleeping on the streets?"

"Does it matter to you?" Ash snapped hotly. "Go guard someone else. No way I can break out of here anyway."

Shamin was quiet on the other side of the door, so quiet that Ash figured she had left. He shook his head and fingered the flute, looking hard at Pikachu. "Well, this is a fine mess I've landed us into, huh?"

Pikachu smiled. "Chu chu pikachu!" She twirled around.

Ash looked at her a moment, confused, then laughed. "Gotcha. Ready?" She nodded happily, jumping to the ground.

"Pi. Ka. Pi . . . ka . . . chu!" she laughed, and Ash immediately went into a rapid finger piece that sounded a lot like an Irish jig. Pikachu started to dance and leap around playfully. Ash smiled as he played, trying to time his slurs and staccatos to her movements.

They both were nearly immune to the sudden entrance of a guitar, but they could hear the added notes. Both players had no idea as to what or how the other was playing, and Ash struggled to ignore Shamin, who, in his opinion, couldn't count at all. It seriously bothered him, but to quit playing to tell her would mean he'd have to actually _talk_ to the girl.

He didn't want to talk to her at all.

"Well, kid, ya wanna come out?" Miriam smiled, leaning against the door.

"Do I actually get a choice?" Ash snapped.

"Well, say I were to unlock the door and walk away." She looked at her nails, waiting for his response. He gave her none. "Well?" He still remained silent.

"Ya know, I heard ya and Shamin playing last night. Ya're pretty good, especially when she's just learnin' and can't hold a beat to save her life." Miriam heard a quiet grunt of agreement, but nothing came with words. "So where ya from?" Again no answer. "Ya know, conversation works two ways."

"I thought you were going to unlock the door and walk away!"

Miriam sighed, shaking her head sadly. "I did say that, huh?"

"Yeah, you did. So?"

"Do ya even know where ya are?"

Ash looked at the door savagely. "In a little room being held prisoner."

"Well, yeah, I suppose, if ya want to get technical," she admitted. "Look, these tunnels are for runaways and such. We don't need any trouble from no police."

He snorted. "I didn't plan on going to the police, all right. I just want to head out of town, so you going to unlock that door or what?"

"Ya really don't let go of an idea, do ya? Look, we had to make sure."

"Of what?!" Ash questioned. "Keeping me in here did absolutely nothing for you. You might as well have added another missing person to the wall." _Of course, you would probably be a few hours too late_.

Miriam nodded her head, agreeing with the kid, but she wasn't fool enough to go up against the others. Damn dictatorship was getting a footing around here.

"Probably. So ya're heading out for trainin' or whatever? In Winter? Blondie, no offense, but _that's_ stupid. It's cold out there, and trust me on this. I suggest ya hang around until Spring. Better travelin'."

"Humph."

"I ain't gonna ask ya any personal questions. No one hear really likes that," she continued. "Of course, no one here really likes your little rodent."

"Pikachu stays with me," Ash growled.

Miriam smiled. "No one cares what anyone else cares, kid. Not here. We only live and do a few odd jobs for rent. Really, ya're lucky Shamin picked ya for stealing from. Ya'd have died out there eventually.

"So what ya goin' do?"

He was quiet on the other side of the door. "Do I really have a choice in my answer?"

"Always a choice, just not always the right one," she chirped smugly. "You'd be a valuable asset to the place. Ya even managed to follow Shamin, and she's one of the best kids I trained. Ya got potential, and spunk."

Ash closed his eyes. It was the only way he was probably going to get out of this room. "I'll stay until Spring," he gritted darkly.

"Well, we'll see on that," Miriam laughed, opening the door.

"I will," Ash stated, standing up from the bed. Pikachu was on his shoulder.

She shook her head sadly. "Everyone says that, Blondie, but no one leaves. We become like family."

He made a cruel smile. "I'll be willing to bet most of them _left_ their families."

Miriam blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. "We don't question anyone who comes here," she stated.

"Because they won't answer, will they?" Ash had picked up a lot from his time with his father. One thing was to read between the lines.

Miriam forced out a cheery laugh and extended her hand. "Welcome to the Tunnels, Blondie. I can see ya're gonna fit right in."

Ash took her hand grimly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four:** Battling a Rocket

"You're hopeless," Shamin sighed as they sat on the curb.

Ash shrugged. "I'm not a thief."

"Hey, it's either them or us, okay?" Shamin snapped, hating his blasted morality. "Look." She waved her hand at the pedestrians. "I can see their wallets! I mean, if they're going to show it off, then that means they have enough." Ash looked at her disapprovingly. "You have too much of a conscious."

"And you don't have enough," Ash retorted, stretching out his legs. "This is pathetic."

"No, Shan, you're pathetic!" Ash didn't even respond to her remark. Shamin huffed and blew the segment of lime green hair the resided over her right eye away. Her hair was only a little past her shoulders and very wild. "Look, you wait here and _I'll_ get some cash." Again Ash looked at her, but didn't say anything. He had grown past that. Avoiding his gaze, Shamin took off after a potential candidate.

Ash sighed, looking at his shoes. Shamin was annoying in her views of the world. As far as she was concerned any money that wasn't hers should be hers, and she was set on forcing her views onto him. Even Miriam gave up after Ash had found a lost wallet with over a hundred bucks in it and had taken it to the police station. After that, Miriam had made sure he didn't go out on his own—not that he could—in case he did something "stupid" like that again.

He remembered his first few weeks in the Tunnels, the collective name of the network of tunnels, both sewer and otherwise, that ran under most of the southwestern edge of the city. Johnny, one of the more vocal members of a committee of half-assed leaders, had claimed that it was a rule that no newcomer could be left alone or allowed to travel up-top. Ash thought he just made up the rule just to irk him, but it didn't matter because everyone else followed it. No one would ever let him up the manholes, even with their fear of Pikachu. Ash had received more than one nose job because of his repeated attempts, and Pikachu could really learn to hate anything that dealt with rubber. While she was able to get out, Ash never could, and she would never leave him.

Part of Ash wondered why they bothered to keep such measures for him to remain here, not that he totally minded. The Tunnels did provide a sort of quaint home until the weather warmed up, but that was just it. He was going to take off in the Spring. Miriam even said so, although Ash had to admit that while Miriam did have weight on some things, because of how long she had been here, the Tunnels were run by (quote unquote) pea-brained men. Ash never bothered to question anyone, because the only way to get answers was to ask the right person, but he usually wondered.

It was each person's responsibility to get his or her own money, which was usually by stealing it. True, Ash could have used the money, but the means didn't justify the end to him. Even still, Miriam dragged him around, because of how he impressed her with tracking Shamin, to learn the art of the trade, and he usually went topside because of a lack of anything better to do. Although, of course, he was on the proverbial leash, as almost everyone who was up-top watched him.

Of course, there were other ways of getting cash, and honestly too. Cornflower thrived on street entertainment, although cops insisted upon breaking up loiters. If you could play any instrument decently (or pityingly pathetic) patrons of the sidewalk usually threw you a few bucks and listened or told you to get lost, depending on your talent and their tolerance. The money was usually split fairly. That is to say, whoever was higher up in the social scale got the most, if not all, of the money. Ash was lucky if he got a dollar to his name if he ended up "volunteered" with the wrong troupe of four or so. Everyone knew he had skill on the flute—meaning he could actually play—so he was a worthwhile investment in that area. Of course, things would have always gone better if they could have practiced, because then it wouldn't have been just Ash playing.

It was amazing how the place ran. Ash couldn't quite figure it out. There was always food—for lack of a better term, understand—for meals, but no one seemed to be buying it. The Tunnels was just like a little apartment were kids lived—some, the home-sick ones, for a only a day or so—and watched each other, and Ash knew the meager meals had to come from somewhere. He didn't think they could steal so much on a regular basis. The cable TV in the Elite Rooms, as the "leaders''" rooms were called, he could understand, because all you had to do was tap into someone else's receiver. Someone had to do the cleaning too, because the place was clean, but Ash never saw anyone doing any work.

He shook his head and stood up to lean up against the wall of a store and looked inside. At least Pikachu was okay. No one dared bother either of them when Pikachu walked through the halls (minus when he tried going up manholes), and Ash had to chuckle. It wasn't like Pikachu tried to scare them, but she did.

Ash was ready to leave the Tunnels though, and continue on his journey. For the most part, the kids here were all right, but there were a few that seemed to have a vendetta against him. Craig used any spare moment to bring up so biting comment, although he wouldn't bring an all-out attack on Ash if Pikachu was around. Especially as of late Craig had doubled his efforts.

"I thought ya weren't supposed to left alone?" said a teasing voice from behind.

"Hallo, Miriam," he said in a less than thrilled voice. Ash seriously doubted if he was actually "alone". He had seen several Tunnel members cross the street a few moments ago.

Miriam walked to the other side of him and leaned against the wall as he did. "So where's Shamin?"

Ash grinned slightly. Miriam was terribly protective of Shamin, whom she has found on the streets herself a couple years back. From what Ash figured out, Shamin had taken off when her folks split, or something to that extent. No one talked much about his or her problems; that is unless it was decided that their problems endangered the secrecy of the Tunnels. Anyway, Miriam seemingly saved her from some street thugs and brought her to the Tunnels. Miriam was an expert pickpocket-er and usually took it upon herself to train worthy students. They usually ended up being the best on the streets, but Miriam wasn't a pickpocket anymore. His smile faded, and he could remember the conversation him and Shamin had had on the West Ridge Bridge.

It had been Valentine's Day, or around that time. Ash wasn't sure, because he never paid any attention the mushy dates like that. He only knew by the very large number of hearts that hung from the windows. Shamin had said it was the best day to get good pockets because husbands _never_ remembered the date and carried huge wades of cash around to buy last minute gifts.

Ash had probably saved countless suckers by arguing the point of how much troubled the poor guys would go through when they came home giftless. Shamin had crumpled under his constant nagging about it, and they hung around the bridge for lack of anything better to do. She had suggested it, although Ash would have been happy to return back to the Tunnels and spend some time with Pikachu.

 _"Pikachu! PIKACHU! Is that all you can think about?" Shamin had demanded as she lifted herself up to sit on the ledge of the bridge._

 _"Yes. Pokémon trainers have to think of their Pokémon," Ash sighed, looking down at the water down below. It was covered in a thin sheet of ice, and he flicked a pebble down onto it._

 _She kicked her heels against the side of the bridge and leaned back, only saving herself by having a death grip on the ledge._

 _"You'd better be careful, or you'll end up falling in," Ash warned, watching her out of the corner of his eye._

 _Shamin laughed. "I'm not_ that _stupid, Shan." Then she paused. "Would you go in after me?"_

 _"I think I'd be under contract to. Miriam would kill me if I didn't."_

 _"You'd only go in only to save your own butt?" she asked incredulously. She was terribly gullible when they got on some things._

 _Ash looked at her. "No. She'd be the furthest thing from my head if you fell in. I was only joking, Shamin. If you fell in, I'd jump in right after you without another thought." Shamin smiled at him. "Just don't you it, okay. That water probably cold."_

 _She laughed. "I'll try not to, for both our sake's."_

 _"Aren't you even cold?" he asked her after a moment. She was wearing only where a short green Tee and blue jeans that couldn't get any shorter. The only thing that actually covered her up was her knee high black high-heeled boots. He couldn't understand why she wore that particular outfit on that cold night instead of her normal grey sweatshirt, which was twenty sizes too big for her, and plain jeans._

 _Shamin shrugged. "A little."_

 _Ash sighed and removed his fleece jacket, handing it over. "Put this on," he said, rolling his eyes slightly. "You have to dress for the weather."_

 _She took the coat carefully, eyes shining. "Thanks, Shan." With a practiced ease she put it on. "How's it look?"_

 _"Like my coat on you." She frowned at him, but the smile quickly returned._

 _"Isn't the sky pretty?"_

 _Ash looked up momentarily. "Looks fine, I suppose. Can't really see the stars though."_

 _Shamin turned her blue eyes on him. "You can see them."_

 _"Not really. Too much pollution. On a clear night in a decent city they shine like diamonds." Ash pushed himself off the bridge and started to walk down the center to warm up. Shamin watched him rub his arms._

 _"You want your coat back?"_

 _"No, you wear it. I'll be fine." With a running start, Ash did a cartwheel for the heck of it. His hands landed in a cold snowdrift. "Damn."_

 _She drew her legs up so her heels rested on the bridge railing, then wrapped her arms around them. "Why'd you do that for?"_

 _"No reason." He looked at her. "You sure you ain't cold? We can head back, you know." He leaned up against the bridge next to her, hoping she'd take the hint._

 _Shamin smiled at him, then looked back up at the stars. "You know, Miriam said she's got a hard night ahead of her tonight." Her smile wavered for a moment._

 _"What's she do anyway?" Ash asked vaguely, kicking a stone away._

 _The blue eyes quickly shot over towards Ash. "You don't know? I thought everyone in the Tunnels did," she murmured._

 _Ash raised on eyebrow at her. "Well, I don't."_

 _She tilted her head and leaned back on her hands, but she slipped against the ice. The scream was barely out of her throat when Ash grabbed her arm._

 _"I told you'd fall," Ash grunted as Shamin slid off the ledge and against him. He wrapped an arm around her. "Come on. Let's get back. You're shivering from the cold."_

 _"Okay." She leaned against him, taking a deep breath._

 _"So what's Miriam do anyway?" he asked after a fair amount of time passed, when Shamin had more or less stopped shaking from her near fall._

 _Shamin raised her eyes momentarily to look at his innocent face. "Well . . ." she started in a quiet voice. "Miriam charges men to do things that some women won't charge you a cent to do."_

 _Ash looked down at her. "Pardon?" he asked, confused._

 _She sighed downheartedly. "Never mind. Let's get back to the Tunnels."_

 _"About time," he smiled, holding her closer absently._

Ash shook his head to remove the sudden memory, then looked at Miriam. "She's out doing 'business'. How you doing?"

Miriam smiled. "Just fine." She fingered tendril of her hair absently and they drifted towards silence.

The people walked past rapidly, and Ash could see the undying talent of Miriam as her eyes followed pockets and purses. He rolled his eyes slightly. He was pretty sure he could pick a pocket without the owner noticing, but something always stopped him at the last second. He could almost see his mom and dad standing behind him and shaking their heads disapprovingly.

Miriam sighed. "So how are ya and Shamin doin' for business today?"

"Ask her."

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Ya really worry me, kid. If ya had the choice between untold riches and capturing a million Pokémon, ya'd choose the rodents, wouldn't ya?"

"At least I'd know what I'm getting. You did say those riches were untold," Ash replied slyly.

Miriam rolled her eyes. "Hopeless."

"Well, don't you have a dream or something?"

She made a bitter smile. "Dreams are for kids, Blondie. They don't get ya anywhere in the world."

"Neither does stealing," he retorted. "If you want something, you got to work for it. And that's what I plan to do."

Miriam kicked up some slush. "Pretty much Spring, ya know."

He banged his heel. "Yep. Me and Pikachu'll take off."

"Well, if I don't say it then, I'll say it now. I'll miss ya. We all will."

"Most of you," Ash corrected.

She looked at his face. "Ya know ya're goin' be a mighty handsome guy?" Ash blushed and looked away. "Serious. Ya got them wide, innocent-type eyes. Can see why some of the girls got the hots for ya." She grinned when Ash turned his head back abruptly, blushing up to his ears. "And don't tell me ya didn't notice."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ash admitted.

Miriam could hear that he was telling the truth. "Blondie, ya really _are_ blond. And blind," she added. "Half the girls are castin' sheep's eyes at ya. Got a lot of the guys jealous. If it wasn't for that rodent of ya's, they'd probably be hiding in yar room." She grinned wickedly.

"Hmm."

She looked at the budding Romeo, then realized with a smile that he'd probably never be one in the traditional sense. The kid was too . . . sweet for that, and too damn dense. Especially the latter. Miriam shook her head. Just wait until those hormones kick in though. That'd be the decider.

Even still, Miriam looked at his face while he paid attention to the people milling around. If only he was a few years older . . . She grinned wickedly.

"Miriam!" Shamin yelled, suddenly appearing from around the corner.

"Hey, kiddo," she smiled, wrapping an arm around the girl. "How much ya get?"

Shamin pulled out five wallets with a grin. "Easy pickings, once I got rid of the party pooper here." She waved her thumb towards Ash. "What do ya say now, Shan?"

"I say bravo," he said uninterested, kicking up a puddle. "Can we head back now?"

Shamin rolled her eyes at him, but Miriam nodded in agreement. "Yeah. We have to. We have _guests_." She spoke sarcastically.

"Oh, not again," Shamin moaned, leaning against the wall in a pout. "What do we have to do this time?"

"Just a small job, nothing big. We'll find out the details tonight."

"What are you talking about?" Ash asked as they pushed off.

Shamin made a face. "We just have to pay the landlord."

"Huh?"

"The Tunnels were originally so underground base some guy made up. He left them years ago and we moved in. He lets us stay so long as we do a few chores," Miriam explained.

"Such as?"

"Rob his competitors, I guess. I actually haven't gone on a lot of them. Usually it's a handpicked group. Sort of like an initiation." They ducked into the side alley and down into the sewers. "Kinda sucks while they're here though, but hey, what else can we do?"

Ash didn't respond, looking around. "I'm going to go check on Pikachu. She's probably bored silly."

As he took off, he heard Shamin snort. "Stupid rodent. It's all he thinks about."

"Don't worry 'bout it, Shamin. He's a guy. What'd ya expect? Feel lucky it's not about cars."

"You hungry?" Ash grinned evilly. "Cause I know I am."

"Pikachu!" Pikachu laughed, leaping onto his shoulder.

"Then let's go!" Ash leaped off the bed and went towards the door. Usually the bunkers held two people, but, thanks to Pikachu, he had one to himself. He opened it, then stopped himself. "Hey, Shamin. What cha doing?"

She blushed. "I was, um, just, umm, going to tell you to get down to the mess hall," she replied, not meeting his gaze. "Hey, Rod—Pikachu!"

"Pikachu!" Pikachu greeted, pleased with the correct title. No one ever called her Pikachu down here, aside from Ash. "Chu ka pikachu pi pika."

Shamin kept her smile plastered on her face, having no idea if Pikachu just cussed her out. Guiltily she remembered that she had accidentally stepped on mouse's tail, an event she was not willing to repeat. "What did she say, Shan?" she asked through her smile.

Ash smiled at her. "She said her tail's fine. Come on. We're starving."

"When aren't you?" she asked rolling her eyes. Ash merely grinned back at her and they started to walk towards the mess hall

"So when are the mighty quests supposed to come?" Ash asked.

"They're already here."

"Really? Wh—"

"PIKAPI!" Pikachu yelled, pointing suddenly, half off Ash's head.

"What?" Ash tried to see what she was pointing at, then took a deep intake of breath when he spied the familiar red 'R' on the shirts. "It's Team Rocket."

"You know of them, Shan?" Shamin asked, surprised.

"They're Pokémon thieves!" Ash said darkly.

Shamin shrugged. "Hey, everyone's a thief. Everyone steals something sometime in their lifetime." Ash narrowed his eyes at her. "Even you. Come on, let's go get something to eat. These guys are real pigs. Worse than you." She gripped his arm and started to pull him towards an empty table.

"Pikachu, you save our spots," Ash sighed. "And feel free to shock any members of Team Rocket, all right?"

"Shan!"

Pikachu nodded her agreement, sitting happily at the table. "Pikachu."

"You're pathetic, you know?" Shamin sighed as they went up to the counter.

"You told me that already."

"Hi Shan," Zoe, a ditzy blond, giggled. Her troupe smiled at him as well. Shamin narrowed her eyes at them.

"Hallo," he said uninterested as he scooped up some potatoes. "All I'm saying, Shamin, is that Team Rocket is trouble. Where I come from they caused all sorts of problems."

"Say, you want to sit by us?"

Ash looked up at them like he had just noticed them. "You can sit by us. Pikachu's saving a table right over there." The girls followed his nod, trying not to make a face at the lone rodent who waved at them.

Shamin smiled to herself. "Why are you putting on so much ketchup?" she asked innocently.

"Pikachu _loves_ ketchup," Ash grinned and he banged some more of the red goop onto his extra plate. The girls made a mutual face like they were sick. "Well, see you girls later." He picked up his tray and headed off towards the table. Shamin resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the girls.

"Here you go, Pikachu," Ash smiled, giving the Pokémon a small plate. "Fruit, some of those little cake thingies, carrots, and ketchup. Enjoy."

"Pika, Pikapi," she smiled, settling down to eat. She liked eating this kind of food instead of Pokémon pellets or whatever they were called. Brock's were okay, but the store brand Ash would have been forced to buy were nauseous.

"So what actually goes on here with Team Rocket around, anyway?"

"Nothing big, really. Not usually, anyway." Shamin made a face. "Some of the men are a bit forward though."

Ash paused in bringing his fork to his mouth. "Oh?" Shamin didn't go into details, and he continued to eat, although slower now, as if burdened by some deep thought.

They ate in silence until Pikachu tapped Ash's shoulder. "Pikapi?"

"Hmm?" he asked, his mouth full. She pointed to her plate, which was now empty. "Already?" He rolled his eyes. "Excuse me, Shamin.

"Right, Shan," she smiled, watching him walk away with Pikachu in his arms.

"Man, we got to get training. I think you're getting over-weight."

"Ka!" Pikachu said indignantly and loudly. About five people that were around them jumped away, and Shamin giggled.

"Hello, darling," said a deep gravely voice at her side, causing her to jump, her peas scattering.

"Ah, hi," she muttered, turning her head over to looked at the man. A member of Team Rocket, for sure. The red "R" on the black shirt was a good give-away. He had bluish hair, over twenty, and not very handsome.

"What's your name?"

"Shamin," she said quietly, looking away.

"Shy, huh?" He smiled at her. "I'm a pretty nice guy, ya know." She twirled her food, wishing he'd go away. "You wanna go somewhere?" He placed a hand on her arm, and she flinched.

"No thank you."

"Come on. It'll be fun, trust me." He gripped her arm tighter.

"No."

"Come on, Shamrock."

"NO!"

He pulled harder. "Come—"

"She said no. Can't you hear?" Ash growled, coming up suddenly.

"Who are you?" the Team Rocket member snarled. "Get lost."

"First, leave her alone."

"I will if I want to, so I suggest you'd better get lost if you know what's good for you."

Ash sneered. "Same to you."

"Listen, kid, I don't like your attitude," he growled, standing up.

"Then leave."

"I will. Come on, girl." He gripped Shamin hard by the elbow and wrenched her up. By now, everyone was watching them carefully. No one stood up to the Team Rocket members.

"Let me go!" Shamin pleaded. "Shan!"

"Let her go!" Ash ordered.

"Make me," he challenged.

A twisted smile crossed Ash's face and he shrugged, reaching behind his back. "You asked for it." With that, he grabbed the metal tray and brought it towards the Team Rocket-er's face. The man crumbled, gripping his nose. "Come on, Shamin."

"And where do you think you're going?" the man demanded, although muffled. His hand was next to his nose, and blood was running down. "Raticate, go!"

The whole hall backed up even more. The Raticate was terrifying. At least the little mouse the kid had was cute.

"You folks here are scared of Pokémon, aren't ya?" he grinned at Ash, who had an arm extended over Shamin protectively. "Tackle!"

"Pikachu, quick attack!" Ash yelled.

"Pi-KA!" she yelled appearing out from the side to intercept Raticate. The Raticate rolled, surprised at the attack.

"You guys aren't supposed to have Pokémon!"

"What? Can't battle?" Ash taunted. "Where's the Team Rocket motto, huh?"

He gritted his teeth, bring his gloved hand away to let the blood flow freely. "Is it a battle, you want? You got it! Raticate, hyper fang!"

"Agility!"

Pikachu leaped away from the rat, moving rapidly around the brown creature.

"Tackle it, Raticate!" The rat tried to jump onto Pikachu, but she was already gone from her past position.

"Thundershock now!" Ash ordered, leaping onto the table with Shamin.

"CHU!"

The metal floor absorbed the electricity as it had before, this time shocking everyone in the room. Their screams filled the air, and then they collapsed to the ground.

"Pi ka!" Pikachu panted, then leaped up to Ash as he helped Shamin down.

"Good job, Pikachu. You all right?" he asked Shamin, who eyes were like saucers looking between Pikachu and the Raticate.

Shamin nodded mutely, looking at the Raticate and Team Rocket-er. "Thanks." Her eyes shone gratitude from the unshed tears.

He smiled. "No problem. You got to thank Pikachu too." Pikachu leaped up into his arms.

"Pi!" she agreed.

She forced a laughed, almost crying. "Thanks, both of you."

"Marvelous show," said a man. Clapping filled the area. They turned quickly to see whom it was coming from.

" _Pika!?_ "

"Shan! It's the head of Team Rocket!" Shamin whispered fearfully, ducking behind Ash.

Ash narrowed his eyes as the man. "No. _That's_ the Viridian City Gym Leader, Giovanni."

"Who?" Shamin demanded.

"WHAT THE _HELL_ HAPPENED?" Johnny yelled, suddenly appearing with some of his groupies at the opposite entrance and looking around at the fallen bodies. He spotted Ash standing there and vaulted over the bodies to grab the front of the younger boy's shirt and brought him against the table. "Shan! I know you bloody did this!"

"Let me go, all right! I didn't start it," Ash said hotly, trying to push Johnny off.

"He's telling the truth, Johnny," Shamin exclaimed. "That Rocket-er was going to attack us with a Pokémon! That ugly thing right there!" She pointed.

Johnny momentarily shifted his gaze to see the unconscious Raticate.

"Pika . . ." Pikachu started warningly, setting her tail on him.

He looked down quickly, then quickly removed his hands from Ash. "Get your stupid rat—"

"Wonderful attacks," Giovanni said calmly, walking up to look at Ash. "A very well-trained Pikachu. What's your name?"

Ash looked at him in silent loathing. "His name's Shan, Sir, the one Tommy told you about," Johnny said quickly, narrowing his eyes at Ash for not responding.

"I didn't actually believe anyone over here was a Pokémon trainer. This _is_ a pleasant surprise, Mr. Shan, to see that this rumor is true." He looked down at Pikachu, who started to back up and growl. "A very powerful creature, isn't he?"

"Yes, _she_ is," Ash said darkly. So there was a reason he was kept here.

Giovanni's smile faded momentarily at the correction. "My mistake."

"Are you hungry, Sir?" Johnny asked quickly. Giovanni didn't respond so much as just leave, and Johnny turned to Ash. "Listen, Shan, don't you dare piss that guy off," he hissed before he too turned to leave.

"Pikachu," Pikachu growled, jumping onto a table.

"I'm outta here," Ash said, turning to leave.

Shamin grabbed his arm. "You can't," she said, her voice higher than usual. She paused for a second, taking a deep breath. "They want everyone down here. You can't go, Shan. They'll just have a reason to _drag_ you down."

Ash narrowed his eyes at her, but sat down anyway seeing the doors actually being guarded. Pikachu leaped into his lap, and he petted her head. "This is trouble, Pikachu."

"Pi," she agreed, sending small electric bolts out of her cheeks.

A ring of empty tables surrounded the one table, isolating it from all perspectives. Ash didn't care, eating his mystery meat angrily. Pikachu sat next to him, looking at growing numbers of Team Rocket that were coming in suspiciously. Too many attempts on kidnapping her had given the mouse a very strong mistrust of them.

"Lighten up, you two," Shamin pleaded. "Look, they're okay, for the most part."

Ash snapped his head at her. "Do you think if you say it enough that it'll be true?" he demanded harshly, although he didn't raise his voice as loud as he wanted. Out of the corner of his eye Ash could see Giovanni studying him.

"Chu," Pikachu growled, pushing herself closer against him, noticing all the hungry stares the outlaws were giving her.

He gathered her in his arms. "It's all right, Pikachu. They wouldn't dare," he soothed, although Ash knew he was probably lying through his teeth. Pikachu could tell.

"Pikapi," she scolded, giving him a mild shock as a reprimand.

"Hey!" he laughed, poking her in the stomach. "Fine, they're all after you! So watch yourself!"

She leaped from his arms and onto the table, paws out like she was ready to box. "Pi! Ka! Chu!" she said, accenting each syllable with a jab.

Shamin made a face. "They're running for cover now," she jeered sarcastically, leaning her head against her hand and looking at the tiny mouse. Yet, although unspoken, she did have a new respect for the rodent.

"Pi!"

Ash frowned at her, then broke out into a proud smile. "You just wait. Pikachu can handle these idiots, can't you?"

"PIKA!" Pikachu said confidently, nodding her head.

"Over-confidence is never a pretty thing to witness," Shamin sighed, watching the two.

"Well, Pikachu could beat them one-on-one, most of the time, anyway," Ash argued, sticking up for his Pokémon against the "nonbeliever". "But if they all ganged up on us, we'd be toast." He looked around the room again. The once empty tables around them were starting to be filled with the outlaws. "Did we choose a bad table?"

Shamin looked around. "You _had_ to fight that ratty thing. No Tunnel members are gonna sit close to you now that you've made an enemy with Team Rocket."

"It was a Raticate," he sighed. "Fine. Next time I'll let it attack us."

"I didn't say that."

Ash gave her a small smile as he leaned back on his chair. "You're sil—Wh-OA!" he yelped as his chair suddenly disappeared and he fell to the ground.

"Thank ya for the chair!" Miriam smiled, straddling her legs on each side and smiling at the fallen previous owner.

He stood up and tried his best to ignore the laughter, grabbing another chair to sit on. "Thanks a lot, Miriam." He glared at Pikachu, who was rolling around with laughter. "You saw her, didn't you?" Pikachu tried to look innocent.

"Of course she didn't," Miriam said loyally, looking around. "Love the table position, by the way."

"You missed the show," Shamin sighed. Miriam looked at her curiously. "Shan was in a Pokémon battle with this Ratty-cape."

"Raticate," Ash corrected again.

"I don't care. It was ugly."

Ash blinked. "No it wasn't."

"Well, it wasn't cute like Pikachu."

Pikachu looked at her happily. "Pi!"

Miriam set her head down on her arms. "Ya won, I trust, Blondie? No, don't answer that." Her eyes looked at over the room again, then let out a low whistle. "The Big Guy's here? This is gotta be somethin'."

"Doesn't Giovanni usually come?" Ash muttered sarcastically.

She squinted her eyes and chewed on her thumbnail. "Is it just me, or he lookin' over here?"

"Probably is," Shamin said. "He talked to Shan. Said he was impressed."

The eldest let out another whistle, looking at Ash. "Blondie, ya're in trouble now."

"Double trouble," Ash agreed.

Miriam shook her head. "Ya don't get me. Usually we have somethin' to entertain the Rocket folks, music or . . . other ways," she said lamely. "If what's his name was interested in _ya_ , or the Rodent, and he's got how many Pokémon, well ya figure it out."

Ash frowned. "You think he's going to have me battle? That's crazy. Pikachu wouldn't stand a chance against fifty separate battles. She'd lose from exhaustion, and I don't have any potions in case she gets hurt. It'd be dangerous for her."

She looked at him sympathetically. "Like he cares, Blondie."

Shamin was thoughtful. "Well, Pikachu can't battle. The whole place is metal, and every time she thunder-whatevers, well, we go with it," she reasoned.

Miriam looked her in a mixture of amused sadness. "This is Team Rocket we're talkin' about, darlin'. They'll find a way. And this place _is_ pretty large."

Ash looked at Pikachu intently, and both could see that the other was nervous at the prospect. Pikachu had lost to Team Rocket before—Jessie, James, and Meowth—and _they_ had seemingly been the idiots of the group. One slip-up now and it was . . .

Suddenly the chatting room was bustling with _ssshhhhh_ 's from every corner, and the table looked up to see Giovanni standing up importantly, the Persian at his side, and a Rocket member at his other. When everyone was silent, Giovanni smiled, or at least moved his lips into the sense of a smile.

"There certainly are a lot more faces here." His eyes flickered over to Ash and lingered.

"Blondie, ya _are_ in trouble," Miriam sighed, turning her head to look at him as well.

"Double."

"Do you want anything, Sir?" Johnny asked after Giovanni was quiet.

The head turned momentarily towards Johnny. "How about some Entertainment. I have the sudden interest to see a Pokémon battle."

Ash could hear everyone shift in his or her seat to look at him, and he gritted his teeth. "Pikapi," Pikachu whispered, seeing the Team Rocket members look at her like fresh meat.

"Let the games begin," Giovanni said.

Ash knelt next to Pikachu, petting her head softly. The pent-up worry was radiating off both of them, but neither added their worry to the others. "Just try your best, all right," Ash murmured, trying to ignore the fact that there were guards blocking his exit. "You know they're going to send out Rock, Grass, Dragon, Ghost, or Psychic, what you're bad against, okay? Which means your Thundershock won't be that helpful, so we have to save it. And be smarter than they are. I know that shouldn't be _too_ difficult, but hey."

"Pika," she nodded, taking reassurance in Ash's calm voice, his thoughtful inspection of their oncoming battles with her (something he had rarely done before going to Z.P.S.), and her latest victory. Neither of them had battled in over a year, seriously, anyway, because protecting the house from wild Pokémon wasn't the same as fighting trained Pokémon, and that was going to be a serious disadvantage.

"It's like riding a bike," Ash whispered. She looked up, startled. He had seemingly read her very thoughts. Ash looked at her worried. "Something wrong, Pikachu?" She looked at him curiously, at his worried face, and saw that he probably just said it for his own confidence and not so much for her. Probably, anyway. Pikachu smiled at him encouragingly. He smiled back. "Do your best," he repeated.

"Chu pi, Pikapi," she said.

He grinned. "I will too."

"Are both trainers ready?" demanded a voice. Ash nodded as he stood up. "These will be a one-on-one battle with no time-limit. Trainers"— the announcer snorted—"choose your Pokémon."

"Go get them, Pikachu."

"Pika!" She dashed off into the center of the field. They were using a section of the Tunnels that was tiles with old stone, for it had once been a training ground, and Giovanni had welcomed all Tunnel residence to watch. Almost everyone did, and they sat waiting expectantly for their first (or, is some cases, second) Pokémon battle.

"Go . . . Golem!" the Team Rocket choice yelled, throwing the Pokéball into the ring.

The Golem appeared in a tremendous roar that shook the very walls, and Ash and Pikachu did a double take. It was enormous. Ash didn't have Dexter anymore, so he wouldn't have been able to find out that the average size for a Golem was 4'7", but Ash did know that this Golem was a _lot_ bigger than a normal Golem. He could literally see the tiny cracks forming in the stones under it.

The Rocket-er smiled at their mutual expressions, a cool motion on her thin lips. "Golem, tackle!" It started rolling down, right towards Pikachu.

"Pika—" She froze.

"Move, Pikachu. Use your tail as a spring and leap over it!" Ash yelled.

She quickly complied, just in time. The Golem skidded to a halt for a few yards, causing the stones to break from their holdings.

"Golem, earthquake!" It stomped its overly large foot against the ground, shaking everything. Spectators and trainers alike struggled to keep their footings and seating in place. Ash quickly rolled aside to get crushed by a stone that had freed itself from the ceiling. Seeing that the Trainer was distracted, the Rocket-er ordered, "Rock throw!"

Pikachu was busy worrying about Ash. "Pikapi!"

"I'm all right! Quick, use Agility! NOW!" His mind quickly sought for something as Pikachu dodged the flying stones easily. "Pikachu—"

"What'd he say?" Shamin asked, stretching up in her seat to see Ash and Pikachu. "I can't see him. Maybe we should get closer." She looked hopefully at her friend.

"Darlin', we're like thirty feet away. Ya got a close enough view," Miriam smiled, wiping off the rock dust. "Bit too close, really."

"Aren't you even interested in watching?"

Miriam shrugged, although her eyes did glance up at brief intervals. "It's borin'."

"No, it's not," Shamin countered.

An impish grin danced across her face. "Ya're only sayin' that because ya li—hey, what is he doin'?" Her head jerked past Shamin onto the ring. "The little Rodent's gonna get sga-wished!"

Shamin's gaze was sucked right back at the field. "Oh, God!" Pikachu was running around the field with that . . . that _thing_ rolling after her.

"Why doesn't she just use her thunder-whatevers!"

"Blondie probably has his reasons," Miriam said, although she too was in doubt. "Run ya bloody rodent!" she screamed, jumping up.

"You're cheering?" Shamin teased, although she too was up and watching Pikachu dodge the rolling stone. "She can't keep this up. What's Shan _doing_?"

"Damn, shut up!" Miriam snapped at her. Shamin thought that was a bit harsh, since everyone was laughing at Pikachu, believing she was done for. "He said somethin'!"

"What?"

"How should I know? Ya were talkin'!" Miriam pointed suddenly, leaping up and down. "She bloody stopped! He ordered her to stop! IDIOT!"

Shamin practically bit off her fingertips as she watched the Golem rush towards the still Pikachu. Now that it had a still target, she could see it speeding up as it neared.

"NOW!"

With that word, the Golem less than three feet away, Pikachu leaped up and over the rolling ball. Now, as the creature struggled to halt, battling inertia, Shamin watched as a wide grin escaped her lips. At its high speed, the Golem couldn't stop its momentum, try as it might, and the tiles started to leave their homes and build a hive around the Pokémon.

The trainer was glued to the spot, a horrified grin on her face as the Golem headed straight for her. "STOP YOU STUPID THING!" she demanded, running away too late. The creature smashed into her and carried them both towards the wall, burying her in the debris as well.

"I knew he had somethin' up his sleeve!" Miriam yelled, grabbing Shamin's arm and jumping up and down. "He won! He won! Show them blasted Rockets that we're just as good! HA! ALL RIGHT, SHAN!" She let out a piercing whistle.

"Bored, aren't we?" Shamin teased, half-listening to the announcer declare what they already knew.

"Hell yeah!" her white-haired friend grinned. "If I was havin' fun, I wouldn't even be _here_!"

Shamin tried to work the logic in her head, but couldn't. "Let's go down before they can start up another one!"

Miriam gripped her wrist like a mother would to a five-year-old's, then started to weave over the people in front of them. "Right. Move over, comin' through! COMIN' _THROUGH_! Damn, don't ya have any _manners_! Move for the _ladies_!" She planted her foot on a guy's back and pushed him forward. "Thank ya!"

After much fighting to get down the few bleachers, they dashed over to Ash, who did have a _small_ ring of admirers around him. Miriam pushed through in her own way while Shamin followed in the wake, rubbing her wrist. "Ya're a bloody idiot, Blondie! Rodent here could've gotten sga-wished!" the "den-mother" scolded almost instantly.

Ash smiled up at them, kneeling next to Pikachu, who was resting up. "But she didn't, did she?"

" _That's_ not the point!"

"Why didn't you just have her Thunder it?" Shamin demanded.

Ash blew a sweaty wisp of hair out of his eyes. He was sweating from the heat of the stadium more than from actual work, for that was a relatively easy battle. The Rocket member didn't put nearly as much thought into her attacks, probably believing that Golem's size promised easy victory. "Golem is a rock type, and Electric attacks aren't any good against it unless they're paired with a Water type. I would have preferred to use Squirtle. If I had one," he added quickly.

"Pikachu!"

He smiled down at her. "It would have been easier on you, so don't deny it." His eyes shifted towards the other side, where a group of Team Rocket members were planning their next trainer. "It feels good to be back on the field, doesn't it, Pikachu?"

She nodded. "Pika!"

"Where'd ya get the idea to use Physics?" Miriam asked, examining her nails thoughtfully.

Ash's brow wrinkled. "Never heard of _that_ attack."

"Blondie! It's not an attack! Momentum with the . . .mass and fiction and . . . stuff," she finished lamely waving her hand as if drying her nails, knowing that she had no idea what she was talking about.

"Don't strain your brain," he advised with a small smile.

"And I think you mean 'friction'. Not fiction. Fiction's what you read," Shamin said teasingly.

"Cute. Regular Egg Benedicts." She narrowed her eyes, daring them to contradict her.

Ash and Shamin made brief eye contact and smiled at their friend's lack of schooling in some areas. "So what's going on over there?" Shamin asked, standing up on her tiptoes to look at the Team Rocket members. They seemed to be circling one member in particular.

"Looks like they finally chosen one," Miriam said calmly. "Wonder what Pokémon this one'll use?"

"Hope it's cute," Shamin sighed.

"You're pathetic," Ash snapped off-handedly, wondering the same thing as Miriam, although a lot more worried.

She crossed her arms in a pout. "Touchy." Biting her lip, Shamin looked between the two platforms that the trainers stood on. "Can I watch from here?" she asked in a rush. " _Please_? I won't say a word. Promise! Cross my heart!"

Ash looked at her sideways, then behind her.

"What are ya lookin' for?" Miriam asked as he circled Shamin.

"The duct tape she's gonna use," he said matter-of-factly. Miriam quickly hid her smile behind her hand.

Shamin bunched up her face and smacked him upside the head. "Jerk!" She was tempted sorely to kick Pikachu as well, for the mouse was laughing, but the insulted one thought that might be pushing it a _wee_ bit.

Shamin didn't have much of an arm, but Ash rubbed the back of his head anyway. "I don't know why you'd want to. But you can, I suppose." He added quickly, "It's not really regulation, though."

"Nothin' is ever run regulation down here, or with Team Rocket," Miriam stated, a smile still on her face.

Ash nodded his agreement, watching as the chosen one started to walk out. The referee also started for his position. "Are you gonna stay down too, Miriam?"

She shook her head, then looked at the ends of her hair as they swished in front of her face. "I have split ends!" Miriam walked back to her seat, doting her hair as she did so.

"She's really enjoying herself, just so you know," Shamin said reassuringly. Ash took no notice of the statement.

"You sure to want to be down here?" He didn't wait for her answer, not even looking at her. "You can stand off the platform, that way you have a good view but no one really sees you."

"You don't want them to see me?" she sniffed teasingly.

His head turned briefly to look at her, worry on his face. When he saw that she was only joking, Ash smiled. "I don't need them saying that I need help from a _girl_ to win."

"You do," she stated empathetically as she walked off.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Not."

"Too. Too. TOO!"

"NOT! to infinity!"

"Too to infinity times ten!"

"Infinity times infinity tripled Not!"

"PIKAPI!" Pikachu yelled, finally getting through the mock (and very childish, in her opinion,) argument. She pointed over towards the Rocket member, who was waiting as patiently as Team Rocket does. That is to say, he wasn't very patient in waiting.

"The home team chooses Pikachu," the referee stated loudly as Ash ordered Pikachu out. "Big surprise there, huh folks?" A mild chuckle went up through the crowd. "The challenger, please reveal your Pokémon."

The Rocket Member had been tossing the Pokéball in into the air and catching it in a self-assured manner. There was a grin on his face when he threw it, yelling, "Go, Sandslash!"

"Ooh, that one's kinda cute," Ash heard Shamin coo from behind him. He didn't bother to give her a look, trying to remember what he could about Sandslash. Heaven help him, all he could recall was that evolved form of Sandshrew and was strong against electric attacks. (Actually, he didn't remember that detail, but correctly deduced that it would be.) He licked his lips nervously, feverishly wishing he had his Pokédex.

Ash blinked at a sudden thought. He was too reliant on his Pokédex for a Trainer. After all this, Ash promised himself, he would make himself learn everything about all the Pokémon so he'd never get in a fix like this again. It put Pikachu in danger, for one thing, thanks to his own _Ignorance_. It was a sickening thought when Ash realized all this in a picosecond.

"Sandslash, fury swipes!"

"Avoid them, Pikachu!" Ash yelled.

"Poison sting now!"

"Saan!" the Sandslash agreed, releasing the poison bars into the air.

Pikachu dodged as many as she could, but several found home in on her. "Pika!" she yelled in pain, being thrown back.

"All right, Sandslash!"

"You all right Pikachu?" Ash yelled as she forced herself up.

"Pi, Pikapi," she said bravely.

Ash gritted his teeth, knowing she was just putting up a brave front. Already the poison was making her stagger.

"Sandslash! Under the ground!" The mouse Pokémon dived under instantly.

Pikachu turned her head wildly, looking frantically. "Pi! Pikapi!" she said in a panic.

"Pikachu, be quiet and listen!" Ash ordered. "Use those ears you have! Like at home!" He was talking about when they'd listen to the stories below to tell if anyone was coming up the stairs during one of his father's meeting-supper things. Ash always slipped out of them as soon as possible, claiming flute practice or an _unstated_ amount of homework, (so he'd never actually lie, per say,) but some of the guests, Carmen, or his father always felt the need to check on him. The guests were the worst because (aside from the fact that they didn't think it was necessary to knock before entering) they always wanted to "check" on his progress into the "exciting" world of business shudder, and usually wanted to hear him play something. Ash just wanted them out as soon as possible so Pikachu could get out of the pillowcase and resume breathing.

"Remember?"

Her ears tweaked slightly as she closed her eyes. The crowded rolled in laughter, shrieking that she was falling asleep on the field. The Rocket member was torn between being insulted at the action, and gleeful at the promising luck for attack to the "unsuspecting creature".

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Shamin whispered.

"Quiet!" Ash snapped, not turning to face her, ears also perked, although there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell that _he'd_ hear anything.

"Sorry," she muttered, leaning back and waited for the attack. Shamin was really worried about Pikachu. Those barbs looked like they hurt, but Ash didn't seem that concerned for the Rodent. She had no idea that this Pokémon junk was so heartless.

Everyone waited, but the Rocket-er gave no order for attack yet. Pikachu sat poised, eyes still closed, trying to listen past the mumbling of the audience. Ash watched her, praying that she could tell where the Sandslash was waiting. He even blinked in surprise when she relaxed and yawned in a bored sort of way, but then nodded at her smile. She knew where the Sandslash lay and was ready, and Ash relaxed as well. All they need to do now was play the wait game.

"Pikapi, chu pikachu. Pi pikachu pika ka pikachu?" Pikachu asked conversationally, resting on her hunches.

 _Or simply draw it out._ He couldn't hide the smile, sitting down like she had said. "Soon. Maybe after all this."

"You are in the middle of a battle, ya know," Shamin said reproachfully from her position, looking around at the audience, who was finding the situation humorously shocking.

"I thought you weren't going to say a word."

Shamin stuck her tongue out at his back.

"Chu ka pika pikachu?"

Ash looked pasted Pikachu, then smiled as he leaned his head against his hand. "He's insulted," he mouthed to her quietly. She nodded slightly. "Listen, Pikachu, when that Sandslash comes up, I want you to aim for the underbelly, all right. No quills. Softest, most vulnerable part." _I hope_ , he added mentally. "You know what I mean, right?"

She nodded, twirling in a circle and making an occasional loop-de-loop for effect. "Pi, Pikapi."

"Look, that guy over there is getting exceedingly pissed off that you're not taking this seriously!" Shamin hissed. "At least stand up."

"Aren't you going to use that duct tape?"

"I don't have any!"

"Then get some!"

"I hate you, you know! I'm only trying to help."

Ash turned his head slightly. "Look, we know what we're doing, more or less, all right. It's all an act to get that guy to make the Sandslash come up faster. Pikachu knows exactly where it is."

Shamin snorted. "Yeah, probably right _under_ her."

He turned his head back to the field. "Maybe."

"It probably is," she muttered, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Pi-ka-pi-ka-pi-KA!" Pikachu sang as she rocked.

Ash let his eyes briefly fall over to the Rocket-er, who was in a silent rage at the total lack of seriousness Ash and Pikachu were showing to the battle. It was exactly what Ash wanted. Angry trainers make stupid mistakes, such as having their Pokémon leave a great vantage point. It was a very childish maneuver that was very effective on those with too much pride.

Ash knew he would have fallen for it himself.

The red was overtaking the face now, and the eyes were narrowed as they watched Pikachu show lack of gravity for the situation she was in. (Right now she had climbed on top of a pile of tiles and was acting like she was placing a flag in the ground.) Other Trainers had not reacted this way to this attack. They had ordered their Pokémon to continue moving so the Sandslash couldn't get under them, thus tiring their own Pokémon out. _This_ riff-raff Trainer seemed willing to let the Sandslash attack, as if he had an ace up his sleeve he was waiting to deploy. What was even worse was that the opponents and audience were _laughing_ at him.

The Rocket-er's eye started to twitch.

"Go, Sandslash!" he roared as Pikachu leaped high into the air and was returning.

The Sandslash jumped from his home under the ground and towards the falling Pikachu, quills ready. Pikachu was ready as well. Using the tiles that had flown free above the Sandslash, she gripped a small stop and leaped away to the ground. Then, as ordered by Ash from before, she leaped smartly back up and delivered a tiny but effective and powerful kick to the Sandslash in the underbelly. The Sandslash struggled to swipe Pikachu in the air as she gripped its soft fur, but the momentum of its own arm passes and her kick turned it over in midair and caused it to lie on its back. The quill dug into the ground, impaling it in place.

"Thundershock, Pikachu!" Ash ordered, seeing that it was stuck. Sandslash may be strong against electric, but at its present position, the most vulnerable area exposed, Pikachu might hit home.

"CHU!"

The high-voltage rodent let out her shock, and continued it for as long as her Thunder sacs would allow, over a good two minutes. Finally Pikachu subsided and looked at the Sandslash, its quills still holding it in place. Its eyes were twirling.

"Sandslash is unable to battle," the referee announced, although he sounded disgusted. "The match goes to Pikachu."

Ash made no comment as the statement was made, calling Pikachu to his side. Carefully he kneeled down and picked her up. "That was good," he whispered. "You feeling all right?"

"Pika!" she nodded, somewhat breathless.

He set her down, dimly hearing Shamin come up. "I'm going to massage your sacs, okay? _That_ was a really strong attack."

Pikachu smiled up at him, pleased with the treatment she was going to receive. She laid happily on his lap and allowed his palms to go over her cheeks.

"You were lucky," Shamin stated. "If it hadn't gotten stuck—"

"It did, though," Ash stated quietly, rubbing gently. "We take what happens. Pikachu kicked it, and it rolled. We had something to do with it, anyway."

"Still lucky."

"You take what you get," he repeated quietly, studying Pikachu.

Shamin followed his gaze. "What are you doing?"

"Just massaging her sacs." Shamin snorted, and Ash raised an eyebrow at her. "That electric attack was really strong, so I'm relaxing her electric sacs—they're in her cheeks—in case she has to use another attack like that."

"It looked like a very strong attack."

"It was," Ash agreed proudly. "She's a high-power Pikachu."

"Pi!" she said happily.

Shamin was silent watching Ash massage Pikachu's cheeks. It was a somewhat soothing sight to watch the two friends take care of each other, mentally and physically. To her, the blond-haired boy was different from the others down here, and not just because he liked Pokémon. There was just something . . . charismatic and innocent about him.

It seemed that in no time at all Team Rocket had chosen its next champion.

Now, when Shamin looked at her friend—she purposely left out the gender-defining word—she saw that he started to look worried, and was casting frantic glances at Pikachu. All this was trying on her, and he knew it.

The referee stood center as the two trainers took their positions. "Release your Pokémon, trainers."

"Go, Pikachu."

"Pika." She scurried out, ready.

The Rocket-er looked confident, even more than the others had. With a graceful ease, he threw back his arm, not even bothering to yell its release. The second Ash saw it a cold sweat lined his brow.

"Oh, no," he murmured.

"What?" Shamin asked, suddenly worried as she looked at the yellow Pokémon holding its ridiculous metal spoons. "What's wrong with this one?"

"It's Alakazam, a Psychic Pokémon, one of the strongest around." She saw him nervously bite his lip. "The only thing actually strong against them is a Bug or Ghost Pokémon."

"G-ghost?" she repeated nervously.

"And Pikachu's really tired," Ash continued weakly.

"Alakazam, confusion," the Trainer smiled.

"Ala!" it grunted, its eyes suddenly a-glow.

"Pi!" She turned ridged.

"Pikachu! Come on, try and fight it! Use your mind against it! Come on!" Ash ordered.

Pikachu clearly tried, but against a Psychic Pokémon at this high level and after so many battles already, she didn't have much energy left. Ash gasped as she was thrown up into the air and brought down hard, again and again.

"Come on, Pikachu!"

"Can't you do, anything?" Shamin screeched. "Isn't there something she can use to fight it?"

Ash gritted his teeth, trying to form a hopeless strategy as Pikachu yelled in pain with each hit of the ground. He could tell that the Alakazam was playing with Pikachu—it could have beaten the mouse easily, but, like a typical cat, it had to play with its prey.

"Isn't there something that could take her mind off the attack!" Shamin demanded. "Damn, psychic crap is all mind games, anyway! Mind over the other mind, right?"

"It's not that easy!" Ash snapped, wishing Shamin'd just shut up. He had to concentrate on Pikachu, but Ash knew that if he didn't give her some kind of information the girl would _never_ **shut up**. "If we had been training over the past year, Pikachu might have had _some_ experience with psychic Pokémon, but this is like her _third_ battle ever with that type. She doesn't know any kind of psychic attacks! And what you're saying, if it's even plausible, she'd have to have a stronger outside influence than what the Psychic Pokémon is giving her! Something would have to break through the shield, or she'd have to have a really strong will."

"Well, don't you have anything that'd do more make her think about something else and break the trance thingy? She's getting hurt!"

Suddenly Ash's mind blinked and he whirled around. "Go to my room and get the black case on the nightstand!" he ordered.

"W-w-what?" she questioned.

"Just go! And hurry!" He turned quickly back to the field. "Hold on, PIKACHU!" His head jerked sideways. "Damn it, Shamin, GO!"

Shamin blinked, then ran blindly out and down the corridor. It was empty except for a few miscellaneous riff-raff, as everyone was at the tournament.

Unfortunately, the room she needed to get to was at the exact opposite end of the Tunnels.

She was out of breath when she got to the door and wrenched it open, immensely relieved that it wasn't locked. (It wasn't actually common practice to lock doors, because at left two-thirds of the tenants knew how to pick locks.) The room was bared except for the bed, bag in the corner, and the nightstand. Her eyes fell towards it, and, just were Shan had said it'd be, was the case. Without a thought, she grabbed it and dashed back to the battle like the entire Cornflower Police Squad was after her.

"Here!" she gasped, tossing him the case.

Ash fumbled with it, quickly opening it. Shamin couldn't find the breath to question what it was, and in a moment she saw as he jabbed the silver ends together. "Damn, I hope this works!" he muttered urgently.

"—?" She couldn't even get out a question before he let out a shrill, shrill note. It probably wasn't even a note it was so seemingly high.

"PIKACHU!" Pikachu yelled in pain, gripping her ears as she came back down.

But this time she stayed down, her mind much more focused on the piercing (and, to her, very painful) note Ash had released.

"Get away from it, Pikachu!" Ash ordered instantly, once she was free.

"Chu!" she nodded, and tried to run off, but she was so tired so it wasn't up to her usual standards.

The trainer was blinking in surprise, for the helpless rodent was now free from his Alakazam's grasp. "Alakazam, Psybeam!"

It crossed the spoons at the order. "Zam!"

"Watch out, Pikachu!" Ash yelled as the beam headed towards his friend.

Although she tried to dodge, the beam caught her in a glancing blow.

"Pika!"

"Shan! Aren't those spoon thingies metal?" Shamin questioned. She just didn't catch onto the idea of not talking.

"Yeah, but Alakazam'll just use Recover to, well, recover. Move, Pikachu!"

Shamin bit her bottom lip. "What it fit could get wet, and Pikachu shock it a lot like last time?"

"If there was . . . water," Ash trailed off, looking around the make-shift gym.

"I'll get a hose!"

"No!" Ash narrowed his eyes. "Listen to me, Pikachu! Stop! Now!"

"Pikapi!" she questioned his insane order, but stopped anyway because he had ordered her to.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shamin yelled, practically jumping up to kill him. Ash ignored her.

"Pikachu! Look up!" She did quickly, but didn't understand.

"Pikachu!" she questioned frantically.

"The spigot!"

"Psychic attack!"

Once again Pikachu was lifted up into the air, and she hung limply, almost unable to continue. Her eyes were locked with Ash's determined ones, and she tried to read past them as they flickered aside and the flute was brought back up to his lips. Her own gaze followed to see a metal spigot. A metal spigot . . .

She was being thrown up at an alarming pace when Ash blew the note again. Her mind momentarily free again, and still moving upwards, Pikachu gripped onto the spigot and held on. And slowly it started to turn . . .

Water gushed out, a full stream that expanded out and she brought her weight into it. She let go of the slippery metal.

"THUNDERWAVE, NOW!"

"Pika-CHUUUU!"

The electricity flowed with the water as it doused everyone under the sprinkler, including both trainers and Pokémon. The very air was a massive current, and it seemingly gave Pikachu a platform to stand on as she fell to the ground. Once her paws touched the ground, she could no longer continue the attack and allowed the air to return to normal, except for the falling water.

"Go-od job, P-Pikachu," Ash got out, not being one of the lucky who escaped the attack. Neither was the other Trainer, although he was in worse shape, being psychicly connected to Alakazam. It laid in the middle, unconscious, as its Trainer couldn't order it to Recover just yet.

"The m-m-m-match go-go-goes to Pi-pika-chu-u," the referee stuttered.

Ash got up and went to pick up Pikachu, who was almost in a faint. His left eye was twitching wildly, and his hair was standing out on end. Even still, he made his voice heard to everyone, especially Giovanni.

"No more! I forfeit all Battles!"

Then he turned and carefully walked out, caring for Pikachu all the while, heedless of the eyes watching him. The guards halted his process for a moment, and he glared at them. They still didn't budge, looking at Giovanni for their next move. Ash turned his head slightly to sneer and humbly beg permission to leave.

Giovanni waved his hand slightly, and they separated. Then, petting the Persian, he nodded and smiled. Definite promise, most definite.

"Are you feeling better, Pikachu?" Ash murmured, rolling over on the bed. What he really wanted was a potion of some sort to give to Pikachu, but he had to settle with simply lying down for a bit. There was no way he was going to go up and ask a member of Team Rocket or Giovanni for one. Actually, Ash edited his thought, he _would_ go up and ask for one, no matter what the cost, but only if Pikachu was in dire need of it, in near death or similar.

Luckily she wasn't, so he did need to. He was afraid of what'd they ask for in return.

She smiled. "Pi," she nodded bravely, pushing herself up.

"I should have stopped after the first match," Ash berated himself, rubbing her ears. "I shouldn't have battled at all."

Pikachu patted his arm and shook her head no. He ignored her motion.

"Shan?" a call came with a careful tapping.

He pushed himself up. "You can come in, Shamin."

The door was opened carefully, and a white-haired familiar face smiled. "Can I too?"

Ash sighed. "Of course."

Shamin rudely pushed Miriam in. "Everyone's talking about the battles!" she gushed. "You really impressed them."

Ash made a disgusted face. "I shouldn't have done them. It put Pikachu in danger."

Miriam rolled her eyes. "Give it up, Shanny. Ya didn't have a choice, in any case. Besides, Rodent didn't do so bad." She tapped Pikachu's head in a mild pet.

"Pika!" Pikachu smiled under her hand. Miriam rarely gave her compliments that were sincere.

"We were thinking of going to a Congrats Dinner. We'll pay." Shamin grinned evilly.

"I'll bet," Ash smiled back.

"Rodent can even come along," Miriam added happily.

Ash smiled, looking at Pikachu, who was leaping up and down with excitement at the prospect of leaving the Tunnels. He ran a hand through his hair, then made a face at the greasiness of it. "Look, I'll meet you. I really need to clean up."

Miriam leaned over to him, a worried frown on her face. She took a sniff. "Blondie, ya definitely aren't one of our men. They don't shower til they peel paint."

"We're going to the deli on the corner of Riverside and Jonas," Shamin smiled, picking Pikachu up and holding her close like a large teddy bear. "How long you gonna take?"

He thought about it. "Ten minutes about, for a shower and stuff."

Miriam's eyes lit up in horror. "Ten minutes? A _ten-minute_ shower?" Ash tried to get out that he wasn't going to in the shower _that_ long, but Miriam continued her prattle. "Oh, Lordy, I might pass out from shock!" Ash smiled at her, then tossed Shamin his pack.

"For Pikachu."

"See ya in twenty, then, Blondie," Miriam sighed. "And don't be late. Can't guarantee how long the food'll be there." She gripped Shamin's elbow when the younger's mouth opened. "Come on, Hon. He don't need any help workin' the soap." Shamin blushed up to her ears.

Ash watched as they left, unsure of the private message the girls shared. After the door closed, he peeled off his shirt and headed for the showers. He _really_ needed one.

"Hey, kid!" a voice yelled behind him just as Ash was preparing to turn down the last section. He was desperately trying to remember how to get out through Riverside Avenue before anyone could see him, but his memory wasn't working.

Ash turned quickly to see the familiar "R" lettering on the front of the shirt. "What do you want?" he demanded, gritting his teeth.

The older man, a limehead, wrapped an arm unconcerned around Ash's shoulders. "Wonderful battling, I must say, today." The smile seemed forced and fake.

"Thank you," Ash responded after a minute, manners getting the best of him. "What do you want, now?"

"Just to talk. Walk with me." His arm tightened around Ash's neck and he started to walk the younger trainer.

Ash choked and pushed away, less than efficiently freeing himself. "I'm sorry, but I have to get somewhere."

"This won't take a moment."

"Sorry. I can't be late."

The Rocket-er slammed his hand against the wall, blocking Ash's way. "Listen, Kid, you don't walk away from a meeting like this."

Ash felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and slowly he turned around to see other Rocket members come from the shadows. "What's going on?" he demanded, a lot braver than he felt.

"You're a great Trainer," a voice said from the crowd. Ash couldn't find the owner.

"So?" he snapped as they formed their horseshoe ring around him.

"Well, we wantcha to join Us."

Ash recoiled instantly against the words. "No way."

"Listen, Shan, you don't have much of a choice," sneered a familiar voice.

Ash's eyes searched for the owner, finding Johnny and his little personal clique slowly detangling himself from the mob. "What are you doing here?"

Johnny ignored the question. "You're joining them, Shan."

"Yeah right. I'm not joining them, no matter what."

A hand was pressed up against his chest, gripping the shirt fabric, and Ash felt his feet leaving the floor. "We said you didn't have a choice," Craig growled. "You caused us a lot of trouble in your twisted little way." His eyes danced with an emotion, and Craig was just waiting for the order.

"What are you talking about?" Ash hissed.

"DON'T play STUPID!" Craig ordered, slamming Ash up against the wall with each word. Ash saw stars dance around in his brain, and he didn't want to cry out, but he might have murmured a wordless (not soundless, mind you) cry.

The crowd started up their own jeers, and Craig, seeing everyone was with him (or whatever), continued to effectively bang Ash against the wall. "Put him down, gentlemen. This is no way to approach someone we wish to join our group. We're giving him a terrible impression."

Ash was instantly dropped, and his knees hit the floor hard and his head roaring from pain. His back felt sticky wet, and Ash struggled not to think of what it probably was as he sneered up at Giovanni, the mob parting. "Too late for that, Gym Leader." He spat the title out like a curse.

He smiled momentarily. "So you know of me."

Ash's lip curled. "I'm not joining anything of yours."

Giovanni's eyes showed no emotion as he petted the Persian. "You really don't have much of a choice. We can break you."

"You're welcome to try!" Ash snapped without thinking, pushing himself up with shaky arms. "I'll never join up with your lot, and I'm not going to be worth the danger I could put you're little organization in." Ash figured he had something there. Nothing was worse than a loose cannon.

"We can break you," the leader repeated monotonously. "You wouldn't be the first we've had to 'entice', Shan, is it? We've gotten others, and they put up a lot more fight than you will. Yes, you have a great deal of Spirit, but we _can_ break you." Giovanni's corners of his lips twitched.

"Will you join?"

"No."

"Then we will break you." Giovanni raised his hand, watching Ash's apprehensive expression with a private delight, and his fingers snapped.

The bodies leaped at Ash as one, members of the Tunnels with Rocket-ers, attacking and beating like demons. Ash could only recall hitting the floor after a jab (more like three, actually) to the stomach and getting kicked right in the face before blacking out.

He moaned.

"He's waking up!"

"Already?" A grim sigh. "Just keep him settled."

Painfully Ash separated an eye (the other had no chance of opening) that didn't want to separate. A sickening sea of colors and blurs attacked his brain. He blinked rapidly, but it did nothing to help his nausea. In fact, it seemed to make it worse.

"Hey, Blondie?" asked a timid voice.

Ash licked his dry, cracked lips, trying to bring the face into focus. "Miriam?" he guessed haphazardly.

She smiled bravely. "Ya all right? Ya had a nasty fall down them stairs."

"Stairs?"

"Five flights," Miriam nodded.

"I—I didn't fall down any stairs," he protested weakly. "Team Rocket—"

"They found ya and brought ya here. Been out over a day. Shamin's been real worried." Miriam looked at him, at the severely bruised face—a multitude of colors. The nose was nearly broken, and right now the kid did not look much like a Prince Charming that Miriam would wish for. "She took off a few hours ago cuz she really needs some sleep, but otherwise she's been here the whole time, Kid." She said it importantly.

Ash struggled to push himself up, uncaring that Shamin had kept an unasked-for vigil over him but not so much of the pain that snapped his stiff muscles and ribs. "No, no, they—they beat me up!"

"Who did, Blondie?"

"Team—" He coughed and sputtered.

Miriam laughed, trying to push him back down. "Don't be daft."

He didn't go down, gripping her arm. His chest started to hurt as he breathed, and his breath was in gasps. "They did! They want—want me to join them! I gotta get out!"

"Hold it! Ya ain't going nowhere!" Miriam ordered, holding him down.

"I gotta!" he screeched. "Pikachu! Where's Pikachu?" If Team Rocket—Giovanni had her . . .

"Shamin's got her, Kid. Don't worry. I tole ya they're sleepin'. Now lay down!"

"I–!"

"NO!"

He struggled against her, adrenaline pumping. "I gotta!

"Ya can leave after ya're better! Ya can do yar journey!"

"No!" Tears streamed down his face as he struggled futilely against her, mixing with dried blood and newly opened wounds. "I have to go NOW!"

"Dennis! Give him a bloody tranquilizer! Giovanni ordered him put!" Miriam yelled, holding him down with her whole body. The "Gym Leader", as Blondie had called him, had said it _personal_ once he had found out about the patient. He even got some decent meds for the kid, something the Tunnels severely lacked in. Miriam figured Ash must have _really_ impressed him with the battling stuff, but the man's name only made the invalid struggle harder.

Ash barely felt the prick in his arm, but the effect was instantaneous as the liquid was shot home. Tears streamed down his face. "I gotta go," he repeated, eyes heavy.

"It's okay, kid," Miriam murmured, patting his arm. He rolled away slightly, curling into a ball.

"I wanna go home," he wailed in a whisper. "I want my Mom!" The eyes were closing, and all Ash could remember was a tall willow and protective arms that could kiss away all problems. Even the room where the man could talk his way out of anything shifted into his thoughts. "I want my —" He didn't finish the statement, drugs taking their effect.

Miriam ran her hand along his shoulder, rolling him back unto his back. "That must have been some fall," Dennis muttered, turning back to his work in the room over.

"Must have," she agreed, biting her lip as she looked at his damp face. Carefully she started to dry it, and something started to gnaw at the back of her little-used conscience.


End file.
